Hawk Modeling Agency
by Dr Who Fax
Summary: Maximum Ride is a reporter for The Birdseye View, a local newspaper. She has to do a story on some models. She ends up getting sucked into their lives, joining the agency and meeting dark Fang, arrogant Dylan, and others. AU, slightly OOC, Fax and very slight Eggy.
1. Chapter 1

**Sup? I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING THIS EARLIER, I WANTED TO TAKE A BREAK FROM LONGER STORIES FOR A BIT. BUT NOW I'M BACK. Okay, so on my other story, Boarding School Memories, I asked people to vote on my next story. This one, #4, was weirdly enough the most popular. Maybe because in the summary I put "Arrogant Dylan". Who knows?**

**The summary: **_Maximum Ride is a reporter for _The Birdseye View, _a_ _local newspaper. She has to do a story on some models. She ends up getting sucked into their lives, joining the agency and meeting dark Fang, arrogant Dylan, and others. AU, R&R please!_

**Enjoy, good readers who actually read the author notes!**

**Disclaimer for entire story because I'm that lazy: I don't own MR, just the plot, blah blah blah, all that legal stuff.**

**Ages: (not really necessary to remember, just cuz I want to remind myself)**

**Main Characters:**

**Max: 21**

**Fang: 23**

**Iggy: 23**

**Nudge: 23**

**Dylan: 24**

**Gazzy: 14**

**Angel: 13**

**Somewhat important characters:**

**Jeb: Who knows, who cares?**

**Ella: 18**

**Kate: 19**

**Star: 22**

**Ratchet: 24**

**Holden: 20**

**Totally unimportant characters:**

**Tyler: 22**

**JJ: 20**

**Brigid: 49 (ha ha)**

**Chp 1, Max's POV**

"Max, can you come to my office for a minute?" My boss, Anne Walker, called over the intercom. Maybe I should introduce myself before we delve any deeper into this story. If you birdbrains didn't realize from the summary, my name is Maximum Ride, I'm 21, working at _The Birdseye View, _or the _View _as everyone calls it. In my little town in Arizona, I live with my fashion-conscious sister Ella, who is 18 and a senior in high school.

I've worked at the _View _since I was 18 and out of high school. College isn't really something that's popular around here. It's not needed. Our high schools are awesome and teach us college-level stuff during our sophomore years. I'm sporty, I absolutely hate dresses and makeup, and am basically the exact opposite of my sister. Anne hired me and I quickly became her star reporter. Not that there's many to begin with. Right now, there's my best friend Tyler, Brigid, and J.J. that work around the same times as me. I think I'm going to introduce my coworkers.

Tyler Chase: My best friend, sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, babyish face, goofy smile, and like a big brother to me. We met a couple years ago, he was the new guy and Brigid started hitting on him. Tyler got nervous and I saved him by kissing him so Brigid would leave him alone. We felt awkward kissing, so we decided to be just friends. We have no feelings toward each other, calm down, folks. Oh, he's 22. Brigid thinks we're together, and we occasionally pretend to date to get creepers to leave us alone.

Brigid Dwyer: Unnatural red hair, 49 years old, no matter what she says. I stole her drivers license when she was bragging it was her "28th birthday". Seriously? The woman has gotten too many surgeries for her own good. She's so fake, yet people still find her attractive for some reason. Anyways, she's also a reporter, like me and Ty, and it took her 15 years to get that position. I'm almost certain she did "favors" for the big boss of the _View _for it, too. Pitiful, really. She despises me.

Jennifer Joy Peterson, or J.J., Ty's crush and my friend. 20 years old. She's so nice, not an aggressive reporter at all, I'm afraid. She has straight brown hair and kind eyes. That's all, I think.

Right. Back to the present. Anne called me into her office. Ty shot me a thumbs-up, we both know I'm first in line for a promotion. Brigid was begging for it in a not-so-subtle way, but Anne refused every time. It's hilarious to watch Brigid stomp off and flip out behind the building.

I rapped my knuckles against her glass door, which was propped open. I peeked in. Anne looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Max, come on in." I took a seat in front of her desk, making myself comfortable. Anne shuffled a few papers nervously. "Max, I know you're expecting a promotion. But my boss won't let me promote you. Believe me, if I had my way, you'd be head reporter and chief editor by now."

I froze. I wasn't getting a promotion? But my last story was _awesome._ It was about a local hero, starting up some company to plant more trees and save the world. They had just gotten a huge chunk of land and they're cleaning it up to make room for new trees. People loved that article.

"Max? Are you okay?" I blinked and saw Anne looked at me worriedly. "You blanked out for a second."

I shook my head, starting to get up. "No, I'm fine. Thanks for telling me, Anne." Anne gave me a thin folder that had been on her desk. My new assignment.

"Do well on this one and even my boss won't be able to stop you from getting a promotion. Good luck." I nodded and brought the manila folder to my desk before opening it.

_Hawk Modeling Agency_. _HMA._ I've heard of it. Started as a local business, got huge, now travels around to different places showing off their star models. They even have a magazine, _Flighty Fashions._ Showing you what's "in" this month. Ella loves to read it, so I know some things about it.

Such as: HMA's star model is Dylan, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, all-American prettyboy. He's almost always on the cover. The centerfold usually features Nicholas, a black-haired black-eyed "bad boy" who is usually shirtless and playing sports, all sweaty. He is never smiling in the pictures.

I scanned the page. Short bios about the main models. Dylan, Nicholas, James, Zephyr, and Angel. I sat back and started reading:

_Dylan Gunther-Hagen: Blonde, turquoise eyes, 6'0", high school dropout. Started working for HMA at age 19. Currently 24._

_Nicholas Walker: Black hair, black eyes, 6'2", studied medicine and physics after high school. Top of all his classes. Started at age 19. Currently 23._

_James Griffiths: Strawberry blonde, pale blue eyes, 6'1", studied psychology after high school. Average grades. Started at age 20. Currently 23. Note: Blind._

_Zephyr Griffiths: Light blonde, blue eyes, 5'6", tutored in high school material. Decent grades. Started at age 11. Currently 14. Note: Younger brother of James, freshman age._

_Angel Gunther-Hagen: Blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'3", tutored in high school subjects. Top grades. Started at age 8. Currently 13. Note: Younger sister of Dylan, 8th-grade age._

Ty walked in and sat on my desk. He took my folder and his eyes flickered across the page. "First assignment as head reporter, chief?" he asked. I rolled my eyes and snatched my assignment back.

"Nope. Gotta ace this one before I can get promoted. Look at their bios! All but one is blonde." I began putting my assignment away. Brigid suddenly appeared, brandishing the latest copy of _Flight Fashions _that came out today. I know this because Ella was freaking out about it this morning. I'm not into that sort of stuff, as I mentioned before.

"Look! HMA just released the newest fashions! I have to go out and buy them, right now! Max, cover my shift." Brigid gave me a sickly smile. I stood up.

"Can't, I'm busy preparing for my latest assignment, on the models of HMA." I smirked at her. Brigid's face turned bright red and she stomped her foot. Wow. Mature.

"_I _wanted the HMA story! I asked Anne a thousand times for it! And she gave it to _you?_ You're so out of style, it's ridiculous. You don't even have a fashion sense." I looked down at my clothing choice for today. Purple converse, ripped skinny jeans, a loose gray V-neck, and my hair was in a messy bun. My usual.

"I'm sorry I don't buy a new wardrobe every month, but at least I have enough fashion sense to know that your polka-dot shirt and striped jacket _do not go together. _I mean, seriously?" I pointed to her own outfit. Brigid let out a disgusted squeal. She had obviously thrown on the jacket in a hurry without actually looking at it. For once. Ty quickly snapped a picture and ran off, trying hard not to laugh.

Okay, I know we sound like complete jerks, but Brigid is worse. She insults me daily and calls _me _the slut! I mean, I have had 1 boyfriend before, a geeky guy named Mike. Anne's son, Sam, is 23 and occasionally asks me out. He's a really nice guy, but I'm always too busy with my work to take him up on one of his offers of dinner.

Sam is the PA of Jeb Batchelder, the manager of HMA. So he already got me a time slot in which I can interview the models and watch a little bit of their next shoot. It was tomorrow, so I took the rest of the day off, preparing my questions and all. A whole day with blonde models. Oh joy.

**Well, that was the first chapter, obviously! I'll add Fang next one, I promise. It's not all going to be in Max's POV, don't worry! Thanks! BTW, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me stuff about modeling! I don't follow that kind of stuff. Leave out all the eating disorders, I don't want to add them, so don't even go there. I'm not ignorant, I just don't like to hear about it... it's kinda disturbing. ANYWAYS, review!~Hellisa**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chp 2 Hiiiiii. I really have nothing to say here, sooo...**

**Chp 2, Max's POV**

"Jeb Batchelder, nice to meet you," a man with graying hair shook my hand warmly. "You must be the reporter Walker mentioned. Come right in." I clipped the temporary pass to my black V-neck, tugging a little at my skirt. Whenever I do a story, I have to be in semi-professional clothes, hence the skirt. It was gray and reached about mid-thigh.

"Maximum Ride, reporter for _The Birdseye View, _can I interview you for a story?" I asked. Jeb nodded.

"Yes, later! For now, why don't you interview our star model, Dylan?" Jeb practically shoved me towards a tall blonde boy. Dylan smirked at me, running his hand through his hair and the other hand up and down his torso.

"Hey, I'm Dylan. You're not ugly. You wanna make out?" He smiled confidently. I gave him a look of utter disgust. Can you say sexist pig? I mean, he thinks because I'm female, I automatically want to have sex with him. Gross. I ignored him and looked at my notepad.

"I'm Maximum Ride, reporter. Can I interview you?" I asked, not giving him a second look. He recovered and shrugged.

"Sure, why not. Playing hard to get, eh? Well, don't bother. Eventually you'll come around, they all do." Dylan grinned arrogantly. I rolled my eyes and started asking questions.

"What's your week usually look like?" I asked. Dylan scowled, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"I'm not weak," he finally answered. "I'm stronger than you." I frowned. They say brains and looks don't go together. Oh right. Dylan is a high school dropout. I forgot. Better dumb this interview down.

"No, I meant, do you do different things on different days of the week? Such as, photo shoots on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, ect." Dylan's expression cleared and he smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth at me.

"Oh! No, we usually shoot every couple days, depending on how fast our clothing designer can make clothes. Other than that, we can do whatever. Shop, flirt, drink, you know. As long as we don't gain weight, we can eat all we want. Not like I'd ever. Not the crap our chef makes."

I noted all the down. "Okay. What do you think of the other models? Do you get along well?" Dylan brightened at the easier question, but then frowned.

"Oh. Them. Nick is always trying to steal the spotlight from me. He thinks he's so great. Just because he and James get along. James is absolute crap at cooking, he's the blind guy. Jeb likes him 'cuz he can't get blinded by the camera flashes because he's already blind. And then there's his punk brother, Zephyr." Dylan rolled his eyes. "Those bros love explosives. I swear, I'll get them for those pranks one day."

"You guys don't get along well, then." It was more of a statement, but apparently, Dylan felt the overwhelming urge to answer.

"No way. They hate me 'cuz I'm always on the cover. Ever heard the phrase, '_Don't hate me 'cuz I'm beautiful'?_ That applies here."

"Um, okay, thanks, Dylan. I think that's all for now." Dylan flashed me a winning smile, winking flirtatiously.

"Ya know, with those looks, you could be a model. We could work together a lot," he leered. I tried to keep the look of disgust off my face.

"Those lines work on other girls?" I asked, standing up. Dylan moved closer.

"Yes," he breathed in my ear, clearly thinking he had me. I shoved him away roughly. He stumbled back a few steps, trying to wrap his thick head around the fact that there's a female on this planet that doesn't want to fuck him.

"Excuse me," I say coldly, walking past him to the lobby. I saw the dark-haired one, Nicholas, drinking a soda. I checked his bio. He studied the hardest subjects after high school. He was only 23, He _had _to be smarter than Dylan.

"Maximum Ride, _Birdseye View, _can I interview you?" I ask. He took a long sip before answering me.

"That's not really a question, since I have to say yes," Nicholas pointed out coldly. I was at a loss for words, but tried to collect myself before the stunningly dark model noticed.

"Um, Nicholas, can we go somewhere more private?" I asked. Nicholas shrugged and led me to a small, yet well-furnished room.

"Fire away," Nicholas said lazily. I nodded.

"How do you get along with the other models?" Nicholas drank some more soda.

"You know. Okay, I guess. I dunno."

Unsatisfied with his answer, I pressed on. "Dylan mentioned the rest of the models disliked him. Care to add anything to that statement?"

Nicholas screwed up his face in concentration. "Statement? Like, in court? What?" I decided to drop it.

"Okay. What do you think of Dylan Gunther-Hagen?" Nicholas shrugged.

"He's... okay, I guess. A bit of a meanie sometimes. I dunno." I felt exasperation rise up inside of me, but I squashed the feeling down.

"What do you think of the food?" I tried again. Nicholas drank some more soda.

"It's good, I guess. I can't really cook, too complicated." Nicholas smirked, pleased with his answer. He was toying with me, and we both know it. I just lost it.

I threw down my pen and notepad. "Damn it, Nicholas! I know you're not an idiot. Idiots don't study medicine and physics after high school. What I don't fucking understand is _why _you act like you're totally _fucking _incompetent and a fucking six-year-old!

"Listen, I don't want to do this any more than you do, so why don't you fucking give me one intelligent answer so we can both move on with our lives? You think you're so great because you're rich and famous. Well, you're not. Girls fawn all over you, you arrogant fuck, but I'm not fooled by it. I couldn't hate you more right now."

Nicholas raised his eyebrow. I suddenly realized what a huge mistake I'd just made. But I wouldn't go back on it. Hell no. This boy needed some sense knocked into him.

"Well, Maxine, was it? Wonderful speech there," Nicholas smirked. "How much do you value your job right now?"

**I think I'll leave you with that for now. ;) Yes, Fang is super OOC, but he'll get better later. Review, please! ~Hellisa**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, this is IMPORTANT: I'm going to be in Malaysia for 3 weeks so I can't update while I'm there (this is all saved on my desktop computer). When I return, I promise you guys 2 or 3 chapters. I'll be back around July 5th-ish. Sorry, not my idea.**

**Oh, and sorry for not updating Saturday, I was busy most of the day and Sunday I was at a party.**

**Chp 3, Fang's POV**

"Well, Maxine, was it?" I smirked. "How much do you value your job right now?" I cold see in her eyes, a flash a fear, but it quickly hardened into resolve.

"My name is Maximum," she said slowly, as if I was dim (though I pretended to be, I'm really a borderline genius), "and I plan on keeping my job, thank you very much." She was acting tough. Hm.

"You know," I drawled out slowly, "if one were to tell your boss what you did, he'd have you fired _like that._" I snapped my fingers for emphasis.

Maximum crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "Anne loves me. She wouldn't fire me, just postpone my inevitable promotion." Her head was held high, a cold stubbornness clear in her warm brown eyes.

"Cocky, aren't we?" I mocked. The side of her mouth curled into something that could pass for a smile.

"As confident as I may be, I'm still not half as arrogant as you. Not to mention self-centered, snobby, and narcissist." Damn, this girl was tough. And she wasn't backing down. I almost smiled, despite my reputation of being a silent, emotionless rock. I only smiled for the cameras, and even then Jeb had a hard time getting me to grin.

"Is that what you think of models?" I asked, leaning forward and down a little. She wasn't short, but I still had a good half a foot on her. I breathed the words in her ear, making her shiver. Suddenly, the breath whooshed out of me at once, and I backed up, doubling over and holding my stomach.

Maximum was examining her knuckles calmly. "Yes," she replied shortly. I looked at her in amazement. She was probably a year or two younger than me, clearly beautiful, defiance dancing in her chocolate-brown eyes, no ring on her finger, was she single? She wasn't dazzled by me or Dylan, when most girls were trying to tear off our clothes (and Dylan would surely remove theirs, too).

"You know, we're not all like that," I managed to get out, straightening up. She punched hard, even I had to admit. That blow left me slightly winded, something I wasn't used to. Then again, nobody dared touch a famous male model with an 8-pack. Just saying.

Maximum put her hands on her hips. "Care to prove me wrong?" she challenged. I stared into her eyes. They were brown, the shade reminding me of some chocolates I'd once eaten in Paris. They had been so delicious, Gazzy had a ton of them and had to throw up later.

I leaned in so my lips brushed her ear. I ignored the shiver that went through my body at our proximity. "I think I will, Maximum," I murmured before turning around and leaving the room with her standing there, a look of shock on her face. Silently, I laughed at her dumbfounded expression.

**Max's POV**

I shook off the blush that had snuck onto my face when Nicholas decided to invade my personal space, trying to regain my composure. I picked up my notepad and pen that lay forgotten on the floor. I exited the small, plush room, only to practically run into an African-American girl. She looked about my age, maybe a year or two older. She wore plenty of makeup, but unlike on Brigid, it looked flattering on her and was delicately applied with an experienced hand.

As I registered this, I was bombarded by what I like to call a word salad_. _"ZOMG, I'm so sorry, I didn't think there was anyone in there, Fang just left it. I'm Monique, I'm the clothing and fashion designer here at HMA. Wow, you're really pretty, has anyone ever told you that? Like, your hair isn't quite blonde, but it's not brown either! And it's wavy, not straight or curly! I wish I had hair like that sometimes," the girl spluttered out. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself! My name is Monique Williams, but everyone calls me Nudge because they have to nudge me to make me be quiet. They all say I talk too much. Wait a minute, OMG, you must be her!" I blinked. What?

"Um, hi. I'm Maximum Ride,_" _That was as far as I got before I was being dragged down the carpeted hallway into a room _filled _with clothes. Literally. From floor to ceiling, which was about twenty feet high, there were racks upon racks of dresses, suits, shirts, pants, skirts. You name the kind of clothing, I swear it was there. A whole quarter of the room was dedicated for "Accessories".

"You have a great body, I want to try this new dress I made. Of course, I don't have the body for it and Angel's too young, but it would fit you perfectly!" Nudge babbled. She moved swiftly with practiced ease through the room, narrowly avoiding boxes of nail polish and makeup scattered hazardously around the room. "This is my workshop," Nudge called to me over her shoulder. "I usually stay in here, designing new clothes for the models! It's so sad that Angel is the only female model right now. And she's only 13, so her curves haven't come in yet, so she can't wear most of the dresses!"

I almost collide with her again when she stops suddenly. She reached into one of the racks and pulled out a dress. Even I, who dislikes wearing dresses generally, gasped. It was sparkling silver and went to about mid-thigh. It had one strap, I noted, before I was shoved into a somewhat hidden dressing room, dress in hand, and with matching silver heels thrown at me.

Okay, hold up. I was beyond confused. I mean, it's not every day you run into someone and they scream "you must be her!" and then force you to wear a dress. Come on, is this normal? No, I don't think so. But I guess my brain wasn't working quite right and I slipped into the dress, which creepishly fit perfectly. In the back of my mind, I vaguely wondered why, but my brain was still in a bit of a fog.

As I emerged from the dressing room, trying hard not to stumble in the three-inch heels Nudge threw at me, Nudge squealed so loudly I quickly pressed my palms to my ears in an effort to block the high-pitched noise coming from Nudge's mouth.

"Shut up!" I cried out. Nudge closed her mouth, blushing slightly. Her embarrassment seemed to last only for a second because before I realized what was happening, she sat me down in front of a vanity mirror and started pulling out wicked-looking metal things.

"What the firetruck are those?" I demanded. Nudge stared at me like I just grew wings out of my back (**A/N: ha ha).**

Nudge waved one of the metal things in front of my face. "This is a curling iron," she said slowly. "And this is a hair straightener. This is a hairdryer." I blinked. The hunk of shiny metal looked nothing like my hairdryer at home. Nudge glanced down at it and unfolded it. It was a collapsable hairdryer. Of course.

"Let's make you gorgeous! Course, you already _are _gorgeous, that's why you're here! But seriously, are you even wearing _any _makeup? No matter, it's easier when you're not." Suddenly, Nudge started applying foundation, I believe it's called, to my face. I found it better not to argue with someone holding a burning-hot metal wand in one hand, so I sat still and suffered through the process.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind the occasional skirt and the touch of makeup. It's just that I don't pay much attention to what I wear. I don't care that much, honestly. And my sister, Ella, has tied me to a chair a couple times and forced me to let her do my makeup (for Prom and my first date).

So I allowed Nudge to do what she wanted, partly because of how seriously she took the whole thing. Is this what they always do to reporters? I can see why Brigid wanted this, 'd make her look the age she claims she is.

About half an hour later, Nudge let me look in the vanity, which had been covered until this point. I sucked in a breath quickly, staring in awe at my new face. I don't know what she did. With a careful hand, she made me look absolutely gorgeous. I stood up and hugged Nudge, who was equally pleased.

"This is my best work yet," Nudge was simpering. "Oh gods, I can't cry, my makeup isn't waterproof!" She fanned her face and hopped around, squealing. Then I was yanked to my feet. I tried to regain my balance as I stumbled around for a second(hey, don't laugh, I don't wear heels very much).

"We _have _to show the others! OMG, they'll _love _you! 'Course, they would anyways, but still! OMG, come _on, _what was your name again? Maximum? That's a _perfect _model name! It's original, it's creative, not to mention _sexy._" Nudge grinned at me. She led the way to a large, plush room. Several people were lounging around, and they all looked up and gaped.

There was a bar on the North side of the room. A tall, pale guy with strawberry blonde hair was standing behind it. He was the only one not staring. Wait, scratch that. He was looking at my forehead. I remembered my notes. _James Griffiths. Blind. _Of course. He wasn't the bartender, he was a model. That explains the unfocused look in his cloudy eyes, not to add that he was quite attractive. In fact, everyone in the room was very attractive.

My eyes shifted over to a younger version of James. He was a young teen, platinum blonde with blue tips on the edges of his spiked-up hair. He had bright blue eyes and he hadn't quite lost all his baby fat, giving him a young look. He had the same nose and the high cheekbones that James had, testifying they were siblings.

Sitting in an armchair a ways away with the Griffiths was a girl, maybe 12 years old. Like the others, she had a halo of blonde hair that encircled her pre-pubescent face. She had blue eyes like the younger Griffiths boy, but hers were slightly more aquamarine than his. What was her name again? She reminds me of an angel... Of course. Her name is Angel something... Hagen-Daz? Whatever.

On the couch was Nicholas, that arrogant sonuva- wait, not in front of the kids. I almost blushed as I recalled our earlier encounter. Me calling him an arrogant fuck, him threatening to have me fired, me punching him, then him telling me he'll prove me wrong about models.

Nicholas was staring at me, open-mouthed, his near-black eyes widened. I strutted over to him and he scrambled up so we were face-to-face. I ran a finger down his chest, absently tracing his defined muscles. He gulped at our proximity. Ha. I leaned in close and closed his mouth with my finger.

"You'll catch flies that way, Walker," I noted. Then I pushed him lightly away and walked back to Nudge. She, along with James and his brother, were trying (unsuccessfully) to smother their laughs. Even Angel Guthrie-Hog was holding back a smile. Nicholas' cheeks colored in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Mr. Jeb Batchelder burst into the room, Dylan strolling in leisurely behind. Jeb scanned the room. His eyes instantly locked onto me, something that was becoming more and more common of late. "What is going on here?"

"Sir, this is Maximum, the new model," Nudge announced.

Wait, _what?_

**Yup, you guessed it! Probably. So, R&R, what do I need to do? ~Hellisa**


	4. Chapter 4

**What up, my readers? It's Hellisa, I'm baaaaaaaaack! You know what one of my biggest pet peeves is? When authors have "conversations" with characters in their ANs. Here's an example:**

**"Author: Hey, Max, can you do the disclaimer?**

**Max: No, not until Fang gives me back my waffles!**

**Fang: Neverrrrrrrr they're mine!**

**Iggy: Calm down, I'll make more.**

**Author: The disclaimer!**

**Max goes riding away on a purple unicorn: PANCAKESSSSSS"**

**Is it just me who hates those? They're random, useless, pointless, and EXTREMELY OOC. It just bothers me.**

**Sorry, I'm ranting again. Here's the chapter.**

**Chp 4, Max's POV**

"WHAT?" Nicholas, Dylan, and I exclaimed in unison. Nudge frowned at me, her brown furrowing slightly in confusion.

"She's a _reporter," _Nicholas scoffed. I nodded in agreement. Finally, I found my voice.

"Um, Nudge, my name is Maximum Ride, reporter for _The Birdseye View, _and I'm sorry if I misled you...?" I held out a hand. Nudge hesitantly shook it. Jeb gave Nudge a look saying _you'd better explain real fast about this, or you're done._

"You said we'd get a new model today, didn't you, sir?" Nudge timidly inquired. James grunted something along the lines of "shortest sentence ever from her", but nobody paid him any mind.

"Her appointment is at 3, it's almost noon," Jeb stated firmly. "You dressed up the reporter?" Nudge went bright red, though it didn't show much on her mocha-colored skin.

"I-uh-I-yes, sir. The dress fits perfectly, she came out of the unused lounge, I just assumed..." Nudge lowered her head. Dylan snorted unattractively. He strode arrogantly over to Angel, patting her head. Angel didn't react, like she was used to this treatment.

"See, Angelica? _This _is why we don't associate with _their _kind. They make mistakes. We don't. We're perfect. Am I correct?" Dylan addressed the girl. I vaguely remembered that Angel was Dylan's sister. Gunther-Hagen. Right.

"Yes, you are correct, Dylan." Angel replied robotically.

"This is nice and all, but we still have a reporter in a dress here," Jeb indicated wildly to me. I put my hands on my hips and flipped my dirty blonde hair over my shoulder to get it out of my eyes. I was about to object that I wasn't just an _it. _I mean, hello, I was still in the room here.

"WAIT!" Jeb screamed, lunging in front of my, closing one eyes and holding up his hands in a square. "You'd be perfect!" He ran around me excitedly, looking at me up and down.

"What are you _doing?"_ I demanded, becoming uncomfortable with Jeb's sudden eccentric behavior. Jeb skid to a halt in front of me, a wide smile covering his face.

"Well, Maximum Ride, what do you think about getting a job here? It pays three times as much as your current job, full benefits, plus room and food. What do you say? You'd get out of this little town, explore the world, make new friends. Come on, you're _sexy, _beautiful, you've got the face of a model. Not to mention the body."

"Wait, _what? _She can't, she's too-!" Dylan exploded in protest. Jeb glared at him.

"She's too _what, _Gunther-Hagen? I dare you to finish that sentence." Dylan wisely backed down.

I thought for a second. Three times as much money, I wouldn't have to live with Ella anymore, and no more Brigid. But I would have to live with Dylan and Nicholas. Plus I'd have to wear skimpy clothing every couple days. Hm. Decisions, decisions.

"Fine, I'll give it a try." Now how will I explain this to Anne? Jeb looked years younger. He shook my hand and ran out, muttering something about paperwork.

"Awesome!_" _The younger Griffiths kid bounded over to me. "I'm Zephyr, but everyone calls me the Gasman. Or Gazzy." Oh _right. _Zephyr. "And that's my older brother, Iggy! 'Course, his name is really James. You've met Nudge already, and I'm guessing you know Fang."

"Who's Fang?" Nicholas jerked his chin up. "Oh, Walker. Alright then. Continue."

"Okay." Gazzy shrugged and pointed to Dylan. "There's Dylweed-"

"Hey!" Dylan was red in the face. He clenched his fists tightly.

"Sorry, I mean _Dyldo."_

"HEY!"

"And his little sister Angel," Gazzy finished. I walked over to Dylan. My heels made me taller, so I could look him in the eye. I placed my index finger in the middle of his chest.

"Looks like you got your wish, Dyl. We're working together now." Dylan scowled darkly at me.

"You think just because you got hired like that, you're better than us? Think again," Dylan snarled.

"Well, at least I knowI'm not like you." I turned on my heel and strode out of the room. I made it to the end of the hall before I realized I had no idea where I was going. I found a door marked with vibrant red letters, spelling out _BACK EXIT, KEEP CLEAR AT ALL TIMES. _I pushed through it, kicking away the empty boxes stacked up in front of it (way to read, people) and walked into the back alley behind the agency. Totally safe, right? Whatever.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and slowly pressed each button with deliberate force. _Ring. Ring. Ri-_ "_Birdseye View _Editor-in-Chief speaking, go."

I took in another deep breath. "Hey Anne, it's Max." A quick silence before Anne replied.

"Hi, Max. You never call during an assignment, what's wrong?" I could hear papers shuffling in the background.

"Well, you see, I'm at HMA," I scratched the back of my neck, unsure of how to continue.

"Is there a problem, Max?" Impatience was starting to edge its way into her voice. I decided, oh so wisely, to tell the truth and quit stalling. _Come on, Max, just spit it out already!_

"I was just hired as a model."

Can I just say, out of all the awkward silences that I've ever experienced, this one was the most uncomfortable. The papers stopped shuffling on the other end, I could faintly hear Anne's slow, forced breaths, and I swear, there's a freaking _cricket _chirping somewhere around here.

When she finally broke the unbearable quiet, Anne's voice was chilly. "I wasn't aware you were looking for a job, Maximum," she noted frostily.

"I wasn't," I shot back, trying to hide the growing hurt in my voice. Anne was always so sweet to me. "But Je- Mr. Batchelder offered me work and three times as much pay, so I took it. It includes food and room, not that models eat that much."

"Max, listen, you're making a mistake-" Anne tried a different tactic. I cut her off, starting to fume now.

"No, you listen. I worked my butt off for that promotion, and I couldn't get it because Brigid slept with your boss. Is that fair? No. I'm tired of it. I quit. I'm sorry, Anne, but this is something new. I'll stop by later to clean out my desk."

Before my ex-boss could throw anything else at me, I hung up with finality, the lingering feeling of guilt buried by the rush of excitement of trying something new. I mean, how bad could this job really be?

Famous last words.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chp 5, Max's POV**

I grinned at my new room at HMA HQ. I painted the walls myself, they're midnight blue with brightly colored fireworks and swirls. Ella had cried when I told her I'd be moving out, then demanded I keep her updated on the latest trends in fashion. Sisters. What can you do?

I flopped down on my bed, exhausted. It was about 7:50 PM right now, and I was starving. I eat a lot, mind you. I have a really high metabolism, so I don't gain weight.

"Knock knock!" Iggy burst into my room, balancing a tray of some non-fattening food in one hand and holding a rather thick book in the other. I'd learned pretty quickly not to underestimate him, even if he was blind. He robbed me of forty bucks and an alarm clock in a poker game earlier.

"Who's there?" I replied sarcastically, sitting up, holding my arms out. Iggy handed me the tray and I instantly dug in, moaning in pleasure. Iggy cooked all the meals, and he was amazing at it.

"Boo."

"Nice try, I already know that one." Iggy pouted and then flopped down dramatically on my bed.

"You ruin all the fun, Maxie!" Iggy wailed. I set the now-empty tray down and patted the distressed model on the head comfortingly.

I picked up the huge book Iggy had dropped. "What's this?" the cover was a bunch of chick swirls and random articles of clothing. _AYNLAM 101 _was proudly printed in big, block letters. "What's AYNLAM 101? And don't call me Maxie."

"All You Need to Learn About Modeling 101, my dear Maxipad. It's regulation. We call it Ayn-Lam for short." Iggy snatched the book from my hands and opened it up, running his slim, pale fingers over the crisp page. He closed his eyes and let the words soak into him. "Rule #1: Don't gain weight."

I gaped. "How many rules are there? That book is _huge."_ Iggy cracked an eye open to look vaguely in my direction, his clouded blue eye landing an inch above my head.

"Ten. They like giving _lots _of examples." Iggy stood up, a wicked grin stretching across his face. "Have fun reading, Maxie."

"Don't call me Maxie!" I screeched, throwing the tray at him. He ducked and ran out of the room, screaming at the top of his lungs, "YOU LOVE ME, MAXIE, YOU KNOW YOU DO!"

I laughed at his playful antics and flipped lazily through the book. Don't gain weight, exercise, don't complain, be obedient, be prepared, blah blah blah. Great. I read a few examples. They're all "horror" stories about models who didn't follow that specific rule and ended up injured or fired. More often the latter.

A nearly silent knock brought me from my quiet laughing fits about a model who said the dress color didn't flatter her and she was fired on the spot. "Come in, unless you're a creeper or going to murder me," I called. The door was pushed open and Walker uh, walked in.

"Oh, you." I laid back down and started reading about Lindsay O'Fairie, who gained a pound from eating a piece of lasagna on a date. "What's up, Walker?"

"Fang." His voice was barely a whisper. I cupped a hand behind my ear and leaned forward, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, Walker? I'm not telepathic, you know."

"My name is Fang," Walker repeated. His near-black eyes swept around the room, taking in the surroundings. They came to rest on me, locking gazes with mine. A thousand emotions seemed to be swimming in those obsidian orbs, felt, but not expressed.

"Alright, Tooth, if that's all you came in here for..." I smirked as a line of frustration appeared on Walker's normally smooth brow. Walker shoved his hands in his jean pockets. I took in his appearance. He had long-ish black hair, the shininess giving away he used conditioner. He had on a tight black T-shirt and black jeans. Not very colorful, eh? Not to mention black socks. He was clearly muscular, he was a model, how could he not be? And drop-dead gorgeous, with looks guys would kill for.

"Done checking me out?" Walker taunted. I glared at him for a second.

"Sure, if you're done checking _me _out." I got the honor of seeing Walker's cheeks redden just the tiniest bit. I'd seen him a few times today examining my body from across the room. Plus, the way he'd looked at me when I had that dress on.

"I wasn't, I was just trying to see what Jeb saw in you. He liked you enough to hire you on the spot, that doesn't happen often, Max." I sat up, smirking at him.

"Don't be jealous, Molar. I'm just special that way. Now what do you want?" Not that I don't love chatting with Mr. Emotionless Brick Wall, of course.

"Photoshoot tomorrow, be awake at 6 AM," Walker replied. He turned on his heel and exited.

"WAIT, 6?! No way!" I hopped up, but Walker was gone. If you know me, I don't like getting up early very much. I'm a light sleeper, fine, but seriously?

**I'm a time machine! Now it's the next day! I'm magical!**

"Put this on," Nudge instructed, throwing a red dress at me. I gaped at her. The dress had a large slice taken out of the side, it had one shoulder strap, and a huge slit up one leg. Matching red shoes flew at me and I barely caught them, thanks to my amazing reflexes. It was a nice mahogany red.

"Max, calm down, they're only 3-inch heels!" Nudge called over her shoulder as she dug around through the racks of clothing. I groaned and slipped into the changing room. The dress fit snugly, hugging my curves nicely, as if had been made for me. Which was impossible, I only got here yesterday.

"ZOMG, PERFECT!" Nudge gasped, dragging me, again, to the vanity mirror where she tortured- I mean, put makeup on me. After applying a medium coat of the stuff on my face and declaring me "perfect!", Nudge sent me to the photography room.

"It's just down the hall, third left, take the immediate right, second door on the right, go down that hall, and it's on your left. Passcode is 13154512. Simple as that!" Those were the helpful directions Nudge has blurted out at the last minute to me before rushing me out of the room so she could help everyone else get ready.

"Down the hall what?" I wandered around, trying to remember her directions. "Third left, right, was it the second or third right? Umm... Oh!" My quick reflexes kicked in as I crashed into a person rushing around a corner with a lot of papers.

"I"m so sorry, Jeb wanted these, he randomly hired someone yesterday and do you know how much paperwork is involved with modeling?" The guy I ran into was scrambling, trying to pick up the scattered sheafs. I helped him and handed him the last remaining pieces of paper. My eyes connected with his.

Sorry to disappoint you fangirls, but sparks did NOT fly when we locked gazes, i did NOT fall immediately, irrationally, head-over-heels in love with the guy. He wasn't a silent, mysterious model (isn't one enough?), he wasn't a hunk with a six-pack. Come on, show some class, people!

No, it was Sam. Anne's son, Jeb's PA. Average height, brown hair, brown eyes, nice guy. Remember, he asked me out a couple of times? Yeah, him.

"Max! Hi! What are you doing here, your appointment was yesterday! I know, I arranged it, remember?" Sam grinned at me, his brow quirked up.

"Hey, Sam. Yes, I remember. But yesterday, I was hired by Jeb. I'm sorry about the paperwork, I really am." Sam's eyes widened. And widened. And widened until I thought they would fall out.

"You-hired-job?" he squeaked out. He visibly swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts. "Wow. Good job, Max."

"Uh, Sam? Can you tell me where the photo shoot room is? Nudge told me, but the words were kinda jumbled together, to be honest."

Sam kindly gave me the directions and the code, 13154512. I hurried off, and ended up making it there at the same time as Mr. Talkative. Hip, hip, hooray. Note the immense sarcasm.

"Oh, it's you, Walker," I said lazily. "What's up, Wisdom Tooth?" Walker rolled his eyes and his long, tan fingers danced across the keypad. It was clear he had done this a million times.

He held the door open for me. "What a gentleman," I mocked, brushing past him lightly. I was almost blinded by the shining lights, pointed _everywhere. _There were small areas set up with different backgrounds. One was a staircase (or at least ten steps of it) made of marble, tile, very elegant. Another was clouds. A football field. I counted them. Six. One for each of us. Me, Walker, Dylweed, Iggy, Gazzy, and Angel.

"Oh, Maxie, darling, come here. This is your set." Jeb all but dragged me to the ballroom background, with the marble staircase. Closer up, I could see it was real. About a dozen or so steps, spiraling up gently, before cutting off, going to nowhere. The tiles were beige with tiny green designs etched into them. Before I could look more, Jeb shoved a glass of champagne into my hand. "Here, ignore the lights. Sip slowly, lean against the stairs. Move your foot, no, the other one, yes. Put your elbow here, lean back, brilliant! Don't mind the lights, looks off into the distance like you're bored. Look sexy, work it, baby!" Jeb moved me around like a doll, positioning and repositioning my arms and legs.

Finally, he rushed off and grabbed a very large camera. He was quickly joined by three others with equally large cameras, all from different angles. The lights started flashing and I forced my eyes to stay half-open, moving my head slowly from side to side, taking slow, overly-dramatic sips of the champagne. I tucked a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. Nudge had piled it all on my head in complicated, compact swirls that resembled a bun.

"Yes, yes, wonderful! These are gold! You're a natural, Maxie, baby! I love you so much, yes, work it!" Jeb enthusiastically twisted the camera around, getting vertical and horizontal shots rapidly. The flashing lights made a sort of strobe light effect. Ow, my corneas.

Finally, after about five minutes, Jeb decided he'd gotten enough pictures and moved to photograph Walker. I left the set and got a sip of water, watching the others. Angel was dressed up in a white dress, a halo over her head and white angel wings coming from her back. She was in the cloud background, obviously. Dylan was dressed up like a football player, fake dirt smeared across his face, a dirty helmet tucked under one arm. Walker was in a gray-ish basketball court, a wall behind him with messy graffiti on it. A closer inspection allowed me to see it read _HMA FF._ Hawk Modeling Agency _Flighty Fashions._

Walker was in a simple black tank top and navy blue basketball shorts. An old ball was under one arm and the other was raised over his head. His face was tilted back, eyes closed, facing the "sky", pouring water from a bottle onto his grimy face. I had to admit, he looked _hot _doing that. Hey, I'm still a girl, even if he is a bit of a jerk.

Half an hour later, we were all in the indoor gym. I was on the treadmill, choosing a 50 degree angle to run on. Dylan was doing bicep curls, Angel was on the trampoline (hey, it's exercise), Gazzy was on a StairMaster thing, Iggy was spotting Walker doing bench presses.

I was sweating like crazy (**A/N: I was going to say like a pig, but pigs don't sweat. They pant and get sunburned. Trust me, I know. I have to sunscreen them. Sorry, off-topic), **who knew being a model meant a ton of exercising and not much eating? HMA was different because it didn't encourage anorexia or bulimia. We still ate, just non-fat stuff and no snacking. How cruel is that?

"Forty-three." Iggy had a thin finger on the weights Walker was bench pressing, since he couldn't see each heft. "Take it easy, Fangy, who are you trying to impress? Everyone here's seen you- ohhhh." Iggy somehow winked in my direction. "Showing off for the new girl, are we?"

"Am. Not!" Walker grunted, pushing up, his muscles straining.

"You are!" Iggy was gleeful, his pale eyes shimmering with mischief. "You usually stop at thirty-five, you liar! You're trying to show off, you flirt, you." Walker let out an _oomph_ as he replaced the weights on the pegs. "Fifty reps. Go get her, you charmer, you." I smirked at Walker, who was blushing a little now.

I decided three miles uphill was enough, so I turned the treadmill off and grabbed a water bottle, deliberately brushing past Walker again and going to Iggy. "Hey, Igs, how's it going?" Iggy hugged me tightly.

"Great, thanks. I'm going to my room." Iggy grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the gym, both of us laughing at everyone else's dumbfounded expressions.

**Yes, it's a bit stupid, but next chapter's Fax, k? This isn't Miggy or Sax (Max/Iggy or Max/Sam) so don't even go there. ~Hellisa**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi there! I haven't done one of these in a while..**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable thing in this story, like the car or characters.**

**Max's POV, Chp 6**

"He totally likes you." Iggy didn't waste any time, a broad smile flashing his white teeth. I shoved him lightly, laughing.

"You liar. How do you figure?" Despite how I act, I _am _still a girl (cue the gasp), and despite how _he _acts, Walker is pretty damn smexy.

"First off, you can make Fang talk, which is an achievement on its own. Next, you started watching Fang do his reps and suddenly he gets super-strength. He's showing off, trying to impress you, even though he denies it." Iggy suddenly got a mischievous look in his eyes. "You know what you have to do next?"

Rolling my eyes was becoming a more and more frequent occurrence. Making my voice go an octave higher and putting on a valley-girl accent, I chirped "OMG, what is it, girlfriend?"

Not missing a beat, Iggy replied in the same tone as me. "You gotta work it, girl, and make him jelly! It's tots gonna work!" He thrust out one hip and put his hand on it, the other waggling a finger in my face. "I'm tellin' ya, girlfriend, get another guy, he'll go cray-cray and be _beggin' _fo' ya!"

We stared at each other silently, Iggy frozen in his pose. Without warning, we both burst out into unbridled laughter, he and I dropping to the floor, clutching our sides. " 'Cray-cray'?" I gasped. Tears were streaming down our faces, we were laughing that hard.

"It means crazy." Iggy helped me up, both of us smiling like idiots. "But in all seriousness, Fang _does _like you, you know."

"Yeah, and now I have to make him... _jelly?_ How does that work?"

Iggy fake-gasped in horror. "Don't you know _any _stereotypical cheerleader slang? Cray-cray, tots, jelly, obvi, abso, wateves... Crazy, totally, jealous, obvious(ly), absolutely, and whatever. How could you _not _know that?"

Frowning, I scrunched up my eyebrows. "Sorry, I don't usually associate with _their _type."

Iggy nodded approvingly. "Excellent point. Next! We need to get you a boyfriend. Not Fangy-boy. This is to make him jealous, got it? So. Any ideas?"

Let's see. Not Dylan, that's for sure. And Iggy's out of the question. Gazzy is too young. Tyler would probably do it, not the first time we've fake-dated. Despite that, I found myself saying, "Sam."

Iggy was confused. "Jeb's P.A.? That los-" he choked on the last word, thanks to the death glare I was sending him.

"He's kind of cute, and he likes me. Wow, that sounded vain. Am I becoming like you guys?" Iggy grinned and whipped out his arms.

"Welcome to the club!" Iggy pulled me into a bear hug.

Time skip, people. It's the next day, lazy day, nothing really to do. I was sharing a couch with Sam in the lounge, the other models laying around being bored.

_Flashback_

_"Ow, really, again?" Sam rubbed his forehead and helped me to my feet. I had left Iggy's room ten minutes before and was wandering around, getting to know the place and figuring out in my mind how to ask Sam out without him feeling like he's emasculated or whatever guys feel when girls ask them out._

_"Sorry, I'm not usually this clumsy." I gave him a quick hug. "How about some coffee? I know this great place not too far from here. As an apology, you know."_

_Sam winked suggestively. "Are you asking me out, Max?" I paled slightly. Did he figure it out already? Was I too obvious? My insecure thoughts were interrupted by chuckles. "You look like a deer in headlights, Max. I was kidding. Let's go, I'm off in five." I gave a weak smile and scurried off._

_Some time later, we were laughing like old buddies in the coffee shop. "Man, I _love _pumpkin spice lattes! They are literally the best thing you could order," Sam was enthusing._

_"Definitely. I hate how you can only buy them in October, though." I lazily grinned back at him. He was so sweet and kind. I almost forgot I was playing him. Almost. There was still that evil, dark place in the back of my mind that kindly reminded me how badly I was treating him._

You're taking advantage of his puppy love for you, _my mind sneered. _You're using him, and as soon as Fang shows interest, you'll dump him like yesterday's news._ I hate my subconscious._

_"So, Max." Sam awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, blushing deeply, blood flushing his face. He lowered his head, allowing his short-cropped brown hair to hide his eyes. When he decided to finish his sentence, he spoke rapidly, blurring his words together. "Whatdoyousayaboutgoingoutwithmenow? ImeanwejustseemedtobegettingalongreallywellandItho ught-" I cut him off before he could butcher the English language further._

_"Yes, Sam, I'll go out with you." I reached over and took his hand, giving the poor kid a reassuring smile. He brightened instantly._

_"Oh! Good, I mean, you don't have to-" I shut him up with a peck on the lips. He was so stunned by the innocent action, I had to laugh._

_End flashback_

"Water bottle, Igs!" I called. Iggy, as usual, was behind the bar, fiddling with something I didn't want to ask about. I turned around at the last second to catch it. Sam rolled his eyes playfully. He shifted slightly, my socked feet laying in his lap as I stretched out on one of the several couches in the lounge. Cheerful tunes created a nice background noise, thanks to Angel and Gazzy's cartoons. Dylan was nowhere in sight, undoubtably complaining about something or other, and Fang was sitting quietly, reading.

"Little casual, aren't we, Max?" As usual, Dylan had a snide comment for me as he entered the room, making more noise than absolutely necessary. I spared him a glance. Light blue button-up shirt that complemented his eyes, black blazer, and dress pants.

"Didn't you get the memo, Dyl? Look around, it's a free day, which means we can wear whatever we want." It was true. I had been here for a couple months and I had settled in nicely. What with my casual attitude, hatred of high heels, and violent nature, I had fit right in with the other models.

Iggy and Gazzy were pyromaniacs and liked to build and disassemble bombs. Angel was creepily insightful and clairvoyant. Fang was practically mute after learning I was dating Sam, and Nudge prattled on for _hours _about anything and everything. Dylan was the real outcast. He always dressed up like he had somewhere to go, but never did. Once he realized that I wasn't leaving HMA, he showed his true colors, making repeated comments on how I wasn't a model and such.

"She's right, Gunther-Hagen. Maybe you should relax a bit, you haven't had a day off in months." Jeb followed Dylan into the room. "Walker, I need you to go into town and do some PR things. Show off, sign autographs, promote _Flighty Fashions, _you know?"

Fang nodded distractedly, knowing the drill. Since I've been here, we'd done a couple public appearances. Usually, either Dylan or Fang went, them being the main models. Fang lazily stripped himself of his shirt caught the leather jacket he knew Iggy was throwing at him. For these sorts of things, Jeb wanted us to "look sexy, but not provocative". Hence the open jacket and no shirt.

"Another thing, Walker. Miss Ride will be joining you."

**(A/N: No, not ending it here, I promised you Fax, and I will deliver!)**

**Fang's POV (gasp!)**

I watched, keeping my face impassive as Max shot up off the couch, accidentally kicking Jeb's PA, Sam, in the stomach in her rush. I had to force myself not to smirk at this. Sam didn't deserve the beautiful girl. What? I can't admit Max is pretty? She was hired on the spot at a modeling agency, people. That's gotta count for something.

"Come on, if you're going to work here, you gotta learn. This isn't all looking pretty for the cameras, you know." Iggy was reassuring Max. Despite Iggy being my best friend, I wasn't totally convinced he and Max didn't have something going on. She says she's dating Sam, though.

Max hissed a reply back to Iggy and I sat down as Nudge started fixing my hair, babbling about something or another. After I fended Nudge off, she huffed something about guys never appreciating her work before she fixed up Max's hair in a sort of high ponytail. Nudge then dragged Max into a different room so she could wrestle her into a dress.

"This is your chance." I bit back a yell of surprise when Iggy materialized next to me. "Just think, you and Max, all alone. You want her, you can't deny that. And she likes you too."

Distracting myself by checking my reflection in a glass, I took my time answering my blind friend. "We'll hardly be alone," I finally replied dryly. "Paparazzi and insane, fashion-conscious teens will be surrounding us practically the entire time." I chose to ignore his comment about Max liking me. That, and I couldn't reply because at that point, Max walked back into the room.

My mouth went dry as I gazed at her. Her dress was kinda like this: tight back sleeveless top with a V-neck. At her waist, it suddenly became looser, silky fabric, colored like the ocean. A swirl of blues and greens flowed down to her feet. The ex-reporter was holding something in her hand. My eyes refocused so I could see it was car keys. And her hand... her nails were painted black with a sea-green swirl.

A thousand compliments, pick-up lines, and other things I cold've said then proceeded to leave my head at that point. Instead of telling her how gorgeous she looked, or being my smooth self, I barely managed to choke out a few words.

"You have a car?"

Wow. Good job, Fang. I could see Iggy duck under the bar, holding back laughter. Max blinked before she caught herself.

"Uhm. Yeah. A 2002 Toy-" I held up a hand and pulled out my car keys from my pocket.

"We're _not _driving in a car that's over a decade old. We're taking my car." Max rolled her eyes but followed me to the employee parking lot. She stopped short when she saw my car. I smirked in a way I knew infuriated her.

I drove a 2013 Aston Martin Vanquish, black, of course. Along the bottom rim, it had small flames licking up to the door. I opened up the passenger door and bowed mockingly. "Your highness."

For the first time, Max cracked a small small to me. She curtsied clumsily, replying with, "Why, thank you, sir." A goofy grin threatened to make its appearance. Swallowing and pushing down the overwhelming emotion he hadn't felt in ages. Get a grip, Fang, I told myself. It's just a girl. You've hung out with models a lot over the years. Why is it always the new girl, the misfit, the independent one? Why is it so _cliche?_

Shaking my hair and letting some of it fall over my eyes, I got in and started my beautiful car. It purred to life and LMFAO's _I'm Sexy and I Know It _started playing. Max raised an eyebrow at me as I nearly fell off my seat trying to change the song. Iggy's music player was plugged into the car, so I took it out, effectively stopping the song.

"Really, Fang?" I could feel my cheeks redden slightly as I found a radio station that was playing the Taylor Twins.

"Iggy was in charge of the music last time," I muttered. Max smirked in an adorable way and reclined her seat, closing her eyes to let the music wash over her. I did my best to ignore her during the drive over to our "show", but I found my eyes kept drifting over to her.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Max's dry comment nearly made me crash as I jerked the wheel to the side slightly. "Or better yet, use one in the magazine. I know guys like to drool over the girls. Among other things." Max winked and I'm sure I blushed.

"We're here!" I announced, five seconds and three blocks later, bringing my car to a squealing halt in a perfect parallel park.

"How fast did we just go?" Max gasped, her knuckles white from holding onto the armrests.

"Doesn't matter, let's go." I wanted _out _of this tension-filled car. After clipping some microphones onto the top of our clothes, we nodded. Show time. Fans were already starting to gather around, holding up phones and cameras, shouting incomprehensible words.

Automatically, I flipped my dark hair and put on my best "sexy pout", as Jeb colorfully calls it. Screams of adoration pierce my ears. I did a quick pivot on my right heel and opened up the passenger door for Max, who was mentally prepping herself or something. I took her hand and helped her out unnecessarily, making sure to lean down and brush her ear with my mouth.

"Keep calm, pose, don't let anyone touch you. I'll tell you when to answer questions. Just follow my lead." Max gave a small nod and put an innocent, schoolgirl-ish smile on her flawless face. My breath hitched for a second before I collected myself and we walked hand-in-hand to the runway.

Max spun around slowly and struck different poses. I switched positions smoothly, with practiced grace and fluidity, making sure to turn to face different directions every so often. Cameras flashed from every direction, making all the people look like dark (or blonde) blobs.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Finally. I told Iggy to text me a half an hour into the session so we could take questions. I held up a hand and turned to the largest section of the crowd. Even though I spoke in my normal, quiet voice, the mic picked up the sound waves and amplified them around the plaza.

"We'll start taking questions now. No shouting them out, raise your hands like you're back in school." Chuckles rippled through the crowd.

The roar of the crowd died down to a soft, inevitable rumble. Max smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, you in the fedora." Max made eye contact with one of the paparazzi.

"Is it true the September issue of _Flighty Fashions _will be based on the color orange?" I fought the urge to roll my eyes. _As if. _I signaled to Max that I would take this one.

"How cliche would that be? No, they'll be a new blend of colors that our main fashion designer Monique Williams hopes to revolutionize the fall fashions that have, of late, consisted of reds, oranges, and browns."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max shoot me a look. Oh, come on, I've been a model for years, I'm bound to pick up a few phrases. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. A couple dozen questions later, I was getting a bit bored. Max was trying to remain professional and keep a blank look off her face when they used words like _armsaye. _Many of the questions were about her being a new model and all. Thankfully, someone had briefed her on what _not _to say, so she didn't screw up. Not that I was worried about that, or anything.

"Okay, last question. How about you, with the red hair?" The young woman looked at us. She stuck out, she was more innocent-looking, new to this. Truly curious and admiring of fashion, unlike the fame-crazed paparazzi or the slutty girls that came to ogle at me. She stood near the front, and as I was leaning in slightly to hear the question, I caught the scent of lavender.

"This isn't about fashion, it's a bit more personal, if that's okay. Are you two a couple? You seem to be at such ease with each other, I just thought..." The girl blushed. I caught Max's scandalized expression and chuckled easily.

I wrapped an arm around Max's waist and pulled her closer. "Play along," I whispered in her ear, too softly for our mics to pick up. She gave an imperceptible nod and blushed. I nuzzled my face into the crook of her neck and then looked at her.

She was quite red, but I have to admit, she wasn't freaking out, and for that, I was thankful. I stared into her chocolate-brown eyes, willing her to understand that it wasn't just a PR stunt that I was about to pull.

"Fa-?" I brought my lips down to hers. Her hands came to rest on my bare chest as she returned the gesture. I ended the kiss a lot sooner than I really wanted to, but who wants to watch two people make out? Oh, you pervs.

It was then the blood stopped rushing through my ears and I heard the deafening roar of approval from the huge crowd. I saw the kiss replayed on some screens that were set up for people in the back to see.

"I think that's enough questions for now. I have to get Miss Ride back to HMA, I hope you enjoyed this and remember to buy a subscription to _Flighty Fashions!_ Bye, now." I gave a little wave and I walked a dazed Max out of the building, my arm still around her waist.

We had just gone a little over a mile, driving maybe a little over the speed limit when Max seemed to wake up from her haze and slap me.

**Told ya it would be longer. Geez, this must be almost 3,000 words, maybe a little more? Huh. Well, a little fax for you! Yes, it's speeding up! Does anyone recognize the girl who asked about Fang and Max's relationship? Kudos if ya do! Later. ~Hellisa**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, guys. Not that I don't love writing 5-page chapters (or at least that's what it is on my Pages document), the rest of the chapters will most likely be shorter than the last one. Yeah, yeah, whatever.**

**I also just realized I made Sam and Fang have the same last name. Oops. My bad.**

**Oh, and good job, people! Yeah, I put Lissa in the last chapter. How will she fit in in all this? :D**

**Max's POV, Chp 7**

"Play along," Fang whispered to me, my ears straining slightly to hear his soft, deep voice. I nodded slightly and blushed at the fact he was nuzzling my neck a bit. I felt my face flushing when he stared at me. His near-black eyes bored into mine, seemingly seeing right through me into my soul. Isn't there some stupid saying, the eyes are the gateways to the soul? Something like that.

I started to say his name, wondering what he was trying to achieve, when he leant down and pressed his mouth against mine. His lips were soft and tasted like chocolate chip cookies. The ones my mom used to make me and Ella. I rested my hands on his rock-hard, yet warm and comforting chest and relaxed into the kiss.

Too soon, he pulled away. I blinked stupidly, my mind was in a fog. was saying something, but blood was roaring in my ears and my mind was moving at the speed of a retarded, lame snail with a boulder in its back.

By the time my brain decided to function normally, I was strapped into Fang's really cool car and we were driving. Finally, I could think of something else besides _Holy [insert swearword here], Fang just kissed me._ A thought suddenly struck me like lightning. _People had cameras._

On instinct, I turned slightly in my seat and slapped Fang. Hard. He yelped in surprise, swerving as a knee-jerk reaction. Thankfully, he came to his senses quickly and rapidly swung the car back into the correct lane as a semi roared past, honking loudly. The driver yelled something unrepeatable at us as he passed by.

"What was that for!" Fang demanded, a red handprint forming on his cheek. "That hurt!"

"For kissing me! I'm dating Sam! Do you know how many people took pictures of us?" I bet you're thinking, _But doesn't she want Fang to kiss her?_ Well, yes. I do, but not like this. Not like a publicity stunt. I want it to be real.

"But you kissed back! And anyways, it didn't mean anything. It was just for publicity. Romance, even fake, is a winner every time."

"Oh, so you do this a lot, then?" I couldn't help the iciness of my voice. Fang almost cringed, I noted with some satisfaction. Fang desperately tried to backpedal (metaphorically, we're in a car, stupid) and save his sorry skin.

"No, no, of course not! Why does it matter? Kissing is just kissing, doesn't mean anything. Sure didn't for me." I want to punch him so badly, but I refrained and opted for a different method of getting back at him.

**Fang's POV**

Oh crap, oh crap. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I tell her it didn't mean anything? Why didn't I tell her that the taste of her lips made my head spin? Now she's not talking to me. What should I do? Wait, why am I freaking out? I'm _Nicholas Walker, _one of the most known models in Arizona, I can get practically any girl I want!

_But you only want her, _my subconscious sneered. _Poor Nicky, hung up on one pretty girl._ I pulled into my designated parking spot, Max still on my mind, and Max all but fell out of my car. I sighed and slowly followed her inside the building, shoving my hands dejectedly into my pockets.

"How'd it go, Fang?" Gazzy grinned up at me. I ruffled his spiky hair affectionately. The kid looked up to me, and for him, I'd try to pretend.

I smirked, shrugging off my jacket and handing it to him. "How'd you think? Same as always. The crowd loved me. Someday, it'll be your turn, okay?" The jacket reached Gazzy's knees, but he wore it proudly and nodded like a bobblehead doll before running off.

I entered the lounge and immediately saw Max sitting on a chair, deep in thought. Dylan was glaring daggers at me, nothing unusual there. Iggy was probably making some 0-calorie dinner for us and Gazzy was talking avidly to Angel, tugging on the lapels a bit to look "cool". Nudge was sketching some dresses for Max and Angel, probably very happy she had a new girl model.

Dylan rolled his eyes at me and addressed the whole room. "Well, look, it's the _show-off._ Did the public appearance really boost your ego that much?" Dylan drawled in a very annoying way.

I stared back at him boldly, becoming the reason why Iggy calls me The Emotionless Brick Wall. "Let's try not to be hypocritical here, Gunther-Hagen. Whenever you do this, you come back preening and bragging about how much the crowd loved you."

"At least _I _wear clothes!" Dylan shot back. I realized that I wasn't wearing a shirt, and I had taken off my jacket to give to Gazzy. Oops. "What, did you preform a striptease?" Max looked up, blinking, realizing I was there for the first time. I smirked at her when she stared at my chest.

Turning my attention back to my aggressor, I glared icily, making him flinch back. "No, I gave my jacket to a good cause. A young man trying to woo a girl. And you know what? I think it's working." Dylan's eyes flitted over to his sister and he turned livid when he realized Gazzy was flirting with his sister, wearing my jacket.

"Angelica!" Dylan stormed over to them, but before he could start verbally beating up Gazzy, Jeb burst dramatically into the room, Sam scurrying behind, carrying a tablet.

"Nicholas, Maximum, front and center!" Jeb boomed. "Your appearance has been made public!" Max looked at me nervously.

"Do you think he knows?" Max mouthed at me. I gave a quick nod and turned to my eccentric boss.

**Max's POV**

I don't know how Fang can be so professional when Jeb knows about what happened. I took a deep breath to steady myself as the rest of the models stood behind us.

"Show them." Sam turned the tablet around so we could see the video playing. It was short, about thirty seconds, and on repeat. Showing Fang wrapping his arm around me and kissing me. It zoomed in and you could easily tell I was kissing back. Faintly, I touched my lips, recalling the taste of Fang on them.

The others gave a start when they realized what they were watching. "ZOMG," came from Nudge. A snort of disapproval from Dylan. A squeal from Angel. Iggy slapped Fang's back and whispered loudly, "good job, bro!"

"Care to explain, Max?" Sam's eyes were full of hurt and slight confusion. Despair welled up in me, realizing I had to explain this in front of everyone.

"I will." Fang's strong, steady, deep voice brought me out of my desperation. He spoke smoothly, with practiced ease. "One of the fans asked if we were together. Instead of awkwardly saying no, I thought it better to give the crowd something to work with. What better than two hot models passionately in love with each other?" His dark eyes flickered to me for a second before focussing on Jeb, scanning him for a reaction.

Jeb nodded slowly. "Alright, fine. I can work with this. Two passionate lovers, their fiery love making them soar to new heights. YES! A new angle!" Jeb's insane grin spread across his face. "Nicholas, Maximum, no more solo photo shoots. You're going to be together in all your pictures."

"But sir, they aren't really together," Sam attempted to salvage our relationship. Jeb waved him off dismissively.

"Doesn't matter, they'll just be hugging, kissing, interacting, all for show, of course. This just may bring in more subscribers to _Flighty Fashions! _How great would _couples _clothing be?" Jeb pointed at Nudge. "Monique, you know what to do."

Nudge nodded and hurried to her sketchbook, giggling about matching outfits. Oh, gods. "I've got some casually fashionable clothes in the back room, why don't we start now?" Nudge oh-so-helpfully pointed out. She rushed out and came back holding two sets of clothes she chucked at me and Fang.

Mine was a coral-red tank and jean booty shorts while Fang had a black tee and tight black jeans. The shoes weren't overly unreasonable, three-inch heels that matched my shirt and Fang had black shoes.

"Get changed, both of you. This is going to be great, I just know it!" Jeb hurried off to talk to the photographers and Fang and I got changed in our rooms. While I slipped on my heels, a note was slid under my door. I picked it up and in a messy boy's scrawl, it read, _I told you so, Max! -Iggy the Great and Supreme Overlord of Everything._

I laughed and tucked the note in my pocket and made my way through the winding halls to the photo room. After a week of being completely lost, Sam took pity on me and gave me an extensive map of the place, color-coordinated based on _Off-limits, Super-off-limits, _and _If you open this door you will be fired on the spot._ And regular rooms.

The background was being set up as I strutted in. From the looks of it, we'd be in a house setting, a living room. Fang was already there, lounging on a couch nearby the set. Sam was taking orders from Jeb and rushing to the people setting up the "house" to tell them what they're doing wrong.

I settled next to Fang on the couch and propped my feet up on one armrest while I rest my head on his arm. Sam shot me a look that said _We need to talk_ before hurrying to do whatever Jeb told him to do. I sighed, knowing Sam was right. But for now, I could forget about that. I could lose myself in the continuous camera flashes and Fang's presence.

Oh, how wrong I was.

**Hiiiii. Yawn. I'm sleepy. :) Next chapter is the couples photo shoot and Max and Sam's talk and the outcome. Do you want me to break them up now or later? They will eventually, but should I draw it out more? Hm, decisions, decisions. ~Hellisa**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello there, my loyal readers! Sorry this one's short, I've been busy. Holy cow, I have a life outside of my room! GASP.**

**LISTEN. The SC County Fair is happening August 1-4, and I'm going to be showing my pig there, so I can't be online much. So much work to be done beforehand and stuff, ya know? But after that, I promise 2 chapters, k?**

**Max's POV, Chp 8**

Almost immediately, Jeb had Fang take off his shirt. Jeb started shouting directions, some to us and some to the photographers. The photos started off normal enough, like holding hands and embracing. Then, of course, it started getting more sensual, this being HMA. I didn't mind Fang's hands on my hips or his face so near mine. What I did mind was my lovely boyfriend staring me down the entire time.

His usually warm, coffee-colored eyes were icy, screaming a silent warning to both me and Fang not to get too comfy. It only intensified when we stripped down to our designer underwear and posed somewhat provocatively.

Fang's arms were wrapped around my waist and our foreheads touched, my hands resting on his shoulder and chest. The shutters were going off rapidly, too fast to count, from all sides. Fang slowly moved his head so his mouth was pressed lightly against my neck and I tilted my head back.

"Good, good! Now, Nicholas, Maximum, get changed!" Jeb indicated to Nudge, who held two outfits covered in a plastic bag. We were practically shoved into the dressing room and I unzipped the thing Nudge and Jeb thought we should wear. I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle my cry of surprise.

They were wings. Light brown, with the longer feathers at the bottom streaked with black and white while the next-to-largest ones were brown and white. The insides were sort of ivory-colored, but on the top and down the back, it was a fading brown.

The wings were connected to a gray tank top and it was coupled with a pair or black jeans. I quickly pulled it on and marveled at how light the feathers were. I wondered how long this took, and how the _heck _Nudge made this. How long had she been planning this?

I walked out, rolling my shoulders to adjust to the seven-foot wings on my back. The background was being replaced by a dumpster. It resembled a filthy alley with just enough light filtering through for a photo. Or several hundred photos.

The next thing I noticed was the set was the size of an actual alleyway. They had pushed all the sets together to make room. One thing about HMA, I noted with disgust, they never used green screens. That was the actual full dumpster from outside. _Gross._

Fang was standing to the side, dispassionately watching them set up. I headed over to him, admiring his look. He had on his usual all-black ensemble, T-shirt and jeans, plus 7 1/2 foot wings. His wings were totally black, but in the spotlights, you could see a purple tint to them.

"Like the view?" he teased lightly. I rolled my eyes playfully and stroked his soft feathers.

"How does she do it?" I asked in awe. They were all real feathers, I had noticed. Fang shrugged, his wings lifting as he did so.

"I think this is her super-secret project she's been planning for ages. And I'm thinking this isn't just us now. Iggy, Gazzy, Angel, and Gunther-Hagen will probably all have their own wings, too. Yours were most likely last-minute, fitted to our personalities."

"Spoilsport!" We both jumped slightly when Nudge's voice boomed out from behind us. Turning to face her, she had a big smile on her face. "He's right. Iggy's are like a seabird, sort of ivory-white and black, and long. Gazzy's are a lot shorter than any of yours because he's smaller, but they're based of an owl's plumage. Angel, she's so _adorable _in hers! She's an angel, a dove, I think. Dylan's are brown, they remind me of chocolate. Mm, chocolate! I love chocolate! Have I ever told you guys about the time when I ate-"

"Max, can we talk?" I turned away from Ms. Motormouth to face Jeb's PA. I sighed and walked away, leaving Fang to Nudge's mercy. We went to a secluded area away from all the cameras and everything.

"What's up, Sam?" That probably wasn't the best thing to start off with, judging by Sam's appalled expression.

"Oh, you know, just my girlfriend making out with a model in public, then taking near-naked pictures with him. You know, the normal! How about you?" His voice had a new, bitter snap to it that almost made me flinch. Almost.

"Sam, I didn't _ask _Fang to kiss me, and I certainly didn't want him to!" Liar, liar, liar. Sam's scowl didn't leave his normally cute face.

"You seemed to enjoy well enough, though," he hissed tensely. "And you seem happy enough with his hands all over you during the shoot. What am I supposed to think, Max? That after making out with him for a photo shoot, you'll still be mine? I'm not stupid, he's hot, I'm not. The best I've gotten is _adorable _from one of my mom's friends. You're attracted to him, what straight female isn't? It'll escalate, trust me. A couple 'practice sessions' and some 'bonding time' later, you won't even give me a second glance." I could see the pain in his hazel eyes, behind the anger and resentment.

"What was I supposed to do, push him away in front of everyone? Make everyone think I'm a total bitch or something? Sam, that's not going to happen. Yes, he's attractive, but so are you. Why do you think I'm with you in the first place? I like you, a lot, and I want to make this work."

"Oh really?" he scoffed. "And when he starts showing interest, how long will it take for you to dump me? Hm? He's everything I'm not. What's the phrase, 'tall, dark, and mysterious'? Look, Max, I really like you, but even I know this isn't going to work." Sam looked away with a sad sigh. "I'm sorry, Max. I truly am. I thought we could... No. I guess it wasn't meant to be, eh?" A dry laugh escaped from his throat. Was it just me, or did his eyes seem watery? "Glad I figured that out before things got too serious."

"WALKER!" Jeb boomed. Sam flinched and gave me a longing look.

"I'll always love you, Max. Remember that. So... seeya." He gave me a lingering kiss before hurrying over to our boss.

Hesitantly, I touched my lips, the feeling of his slightly chapped lips leaving a phantom pressure on them. Slowly, I returned to the completed set to join Fang, Iggy, Gazzy, Angel, and Dylan, all decked out in wings and casual, slightly filthy clothing.

"This is disgusting," Dylan complained, fingering his dirt-stained tee. He looked odd in it, to say the least. Tight, pale blue jeans and a grimy white shirt looked so low-class, compared to his usual semi-formal attire.

"I don't mind much," Angel said calmly, finger-combing her blonde hair. She had been given a teddy bear, I don't know where from, that looked like an angel. It had wings and a halo and really soft fur.

Dylan shot her a disgusted, slightly pitying look. "Angelica, please, don't stoop to _their _level." This was accompanied by revolted looks at Iggy and Gazzy, who were throwing pieces of trash at each other from atop the dumpster. Fang stood a short distance from all of them, an amused glint in his eye at the brothers.

Angel looked uncomfortable, Dylan clearly expecting her to agree with him. Like always, I had noticed.

"Angel, don't listen to him, he's just upset he had to leave his bowtie in his room." I put an arm around the young girl's shoulder and led her away, towards the set. She giggled softly and watched Gazzy.

"Oh, I forgot! Models!" Jeb waved us over. After gathering us all around, he checked his clipboard. "At 6 tonight, there's going to be another reporter from the _View._ Be nice!"

Wait, another reporter? Tyler is an editor, so that means... Oh _hell _no.

Brigid.

**Sorry it's late, guys. I had a million things to do (and still have another million left). What'd ya think? ~Hellisa**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! I wish there was a half-smile emote or a smirk or something. Anyways, thanks for being patient, fair week was insane. Seriously, 4-H, white clothes? I had to wear white pants, a white shirt, and this really stupid green cap to show a pig. A FRICKIN PIG. WHITE CLOTHES. WHY. But my piggy is gone now, sold. :) Bye, Perri.**

**Enough of this emotional crap. Read on!**

**Max's POV, Chp 9**

"Oh, Maxie, sweetie, _so _great to see you again. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Brigid's voice was dripping syrup as she pretended to be my best friend in front of all the other models.

In an equally sweet voice, I tilted my head to the side slightly and gave her a melting smile. "Oh, yes, Brigid. When was the last time we talked?" I pretended to think for a moment. "Oh, I remember! Was it when you told me that I am, and I quote, 'a whore who doesn't deserve this job nor do you have half the looks I do,'?" Brigid's smile dropped off her face and she scowled at me.

"I still stand behind my words, Maxine," she sneered, forgetting the bystanders snickering in the background. "Look, I'm going to be a model here, and I won't let you stand in my way. I swear to you, Maxine Ride, I will find a way to ruin your life."

"Ooh, them fighting words!" Iggy joked, walking next to me and slinging an arm around my shoulders. His expression darkened for a second. "If you even _think _about hurting Maxie," he warned, before he was grinning like the goof he is again. Not to be outdone, Fang stood on my right and wrapped an arm around my waist. Gazzy stood in front of Iggy and took my left hand while Angel went and took my right. Only Dylan stood apart, looking with mild interest at the fake redhead.

"Look at her," Brigid said to Dylan, contempt dripping from her every word. "Two boys by her side and a couple children under her thrall. See what she does? Even as a reporter, she stole my boyfriend the day he started working there. To be close to me, I'm certain."

"Oh, that's a load of bull," I scoffed. "He's half your age and you know it. I kissed him so you wouldn't molest the poor kid. His first day, she cornered him by the copy machine and wouldn't let him leave unless he agreed to date her. I saved his sorry ass by pretending to date him for a bit." Brigid was livid, she started spluttering, trying to explain herself to everyone.

Iggy couldn't take it any longer. He burst into laughter, quickly followed by Gazzy. He doubled over, trying to speak but the words were smothered in laughs. I caught a few words like _poor guy _and _molest_. I leaned slightly into Fang's shoulder and noticed his faint smirk.

Five minutes later, after Iggy and Gazzy had smothered the last of their laughs, Brigid decides to doom herself even further. "Let's get to the interviews!" she chirps, regaining her "professional" composure. "Let's start with you!" Brigid smiles at Angel, a clearly fake one.

She led Angel out of the room and into another, smaller lounge across the hall. Dylan left the room, muttering about how he'll be in another room until his interview. Iggy and Fang untangled their arms from around me, Fang's hand lingering longer than Iggy's. Iggy and Gazzy retreated to the bar to make more bombs of sorts that I'll undoubtably have to confiscate later.

"I'll give her five minutes, whaddaya think?" I nudged Fang lightly. He rolled his eyes playfully before giving his optimistic answer of "two minutes, tops."

"Why don't we make that a bet? If she stays in for over two minutes but under five, you'll be my slave for a day." I smirked at him mockingly. "Unless you're too chicken."

Fang nodded. "And if she doesn't last over two minutes, you're my slave." I tilted my head to look up at him and he held my even stare. One hard handshake later, we were loitering in the hallway with a stopwatch.

"One minute thirty, you're cutting it close, Fangy-boy," I grinned at the tall model. A flicker of gold shone in his black eyes as he flashed my a blindingly white smile.

"Oh, I'm not worried, _Maxie-girl._"

"One-fifty." I shot him a victorious look. "Fifty five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Two minutes." Not five seconds later, we were startled by an aggravated shriek and Brigid stormed out of the room. Her hair looked like she'd been pulling at it.

Not even noticing us, she breezed past looking for the bathroom, muttering about a demon child. Fang and I managed to make it about ten seconds before breaking into guffaws.

"She looked like a clown!" I howled, holding onto Fang for support.

"Beware the demon child!" Fang was laughing, actually _laughing._ It was a nice change from the blank expression he usually kept up.

We stumbled into another small lounge and collapsed on a small couch. Still chuckling, Fang threw an arm onto the back of the couch behind my head casually. I scooted slightly closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. Our laughs died down and we relaxed together, happy.

"Max." I turned to him, suddenly noticing our proximity. His face was still slightly flushed from giggling. I realized he was leaning closer as my eyes started to flutter shut. What the heck was happening? Were we going to kiss? Did I want this?

"Fang." Our noses touched and my eyes snapped open, staring into his obsidian irises.

"Have I proved you wrong yet?" His voice was barely over a whisper, but I heard every word clear as day. However, that didn't help the confusion that crossed my features.

**Fang's POV cuz I haven't in a while**

I still remembered the day we met. How she called me an arrogant, snobby, self-centered narcissist. How I promised I would make her swallow those words. How I would show her that some models were different. How some models cared.

"The day we met. Aren't girls supposed to remember all the gushy stuff?" I taunted lightly. Her brief scowl was gone and she pressed her forehead against mine.

"You said all models weren't jerks and I punched you." More laughter rumbled in my chest and I smiled. I seem to be doing more of that lately.

"Have I succeeded in changing your mind about models?"

"I dunno. Show me." I tilted my head slightly so the sides of our noses rubbed together and leaned in closer. I felt the ghost feeling of her lips on mine when the most cliche thing that could possibly happen happened.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. _All I could think was that it better not be Iggy, or he would be very, very, _very _sorry.

**Hey, guys. So I have another chapter ready, but for fun, I think I should make you work a little for it. So I love reviews, especially funny ones. If you can make me laugh out loud at a review within the next, say, 24 hours from when this is posted, I'll give you the next chapter and creds. It can be anything, from totally random, bad pick-up lines, whatever. Cool? ~Hellisa**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! I love you all for reviewing, and 12/14 people who reviewed within the last 24 hours read my last author's note! Sweet! And now, using valuable skills learned in school, copy/paste the funniest (to me) review: **OMG! I LOVE THAT CHAPTER! IT WAS AWESOME! AAAAAHHHH! YOU HAVE TO UPDATE SOON!

I LOVED EVERY BIT! UPDATE OR I WILL TRACK YOU DOWN AND RAID YOUR HOUSE!

Hehehe. The worst pickup line used on me: How do you like your eggs?

Scrambled, poached or fertilised. Ugh -_-

Nerd: *phone rings*

Jock: Whos that? Your girlfriend?

*Everyone laughs*

Nerd: No. Yours.

*Dead Silence*

**Creds to 0o0-Happy-Dagger-0o0 for that! :)**

**BTW, I forgot, some of you were wondering if I was going to make Lissa a prominent character. The answer is no, she was just a cameo. Oh, bad rhymes. :)**

**Max's POV, Chp 10**

Fang jumped up and stalked over to the door. "Iggy, I swear to whatever is up there, you'd better have a really, _really _good reason for-!" he ground out angrily, yanking the door open. Sam stood there meekly, holding his hands up in the air, his face a shade or two paler than I remembered it being. (**A/N: Oi, can you really blame him? A pissed-off Fang is ****_not _****something anyone wants to deal with. Ever.)**

"Sorry, sorry, Nicholas, the reporter lady, she wants to interview you next. I'll send her in here." Sam scampered off and Fang slumped back down onto the couch, his hand covering his face in frustration.

I grasped his hand comfortingly, the moment already lost. "How about this, we do the interview together. After this morning, everyone thinks we're a couple, anyways." Wow. This morning. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Fang nodded slowly. "Alright. Together." A few minutes later, Brigid walked in, her head high, a confident smile curling her overly red lips. Said smile disappeared the second she laid eyes on me, however.

"What is she doing here?" Brigid snarled unattractively. Fang gave her a melting smile.

"Oh, I figured that since it's a bit late, Max and I could do our interviews together instead of having you run around this place looking for her. Is there a problem?" Brigid, stunned by Fang's good looks and charm, could only nod.

Shaking her head several times to regain focus, Brigid pulled out her notepad and started writing. She also turned on a tape recorder on her hip.

"Right, so, you two represented the Hawk Modeling Agency earlier today in the HMA Public Show. Is that correct?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "The objective of the Show was to raise awareness of our magazine, _Flighty Fashions, _and give our audience a chance to ask us questions."

"Our next public appearance will feature both Maximum and I, as well as James and Zephyr Griffiths and Dylan and Angel Gunther-Hagen. Not to mention the head of the fashion department, Monique Williams." Fang spoke with practiced coolness, not unlike the voice he used this morning to address the public. "It is scheduled to be in three weeks from today."

"According to my research, you were asked this morning about an in-company relationship with one of your coworkers. Nicholas, any comments to add on that?" I noticed her tense slightly as she waited for his answer.

"Perhaps Maximum would like to answer that. Max?" Fang smiled at me. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

"Yes, Nick and I are in a relationship, and the director of HMA approves. In fact, we have started on some couples photos for the next issue of _Flighty Fashions. _We've been together for a couple weeks now." Fang smiled softly at me and put an arm around my shoulders.

"That's... _wonderful,_" Brigid ground out tersely. "Aren't you two just the cutest couple?"

I couldn't hold in my next comment. "Is that your next question?" Brigid glared pitifully at me before making doe eyes at Fang, who ignored her.

"No, sorry. Any spoilers you'd be willing to share, then? Or show me?" Brigid leered slightly. I almost laughed at Fang's terrified look when Brigid started tracing her finger on his knee.

"Spoilers take away all the fun, though," I pointed out. "Sorry, Brigid. Next question?"

Brigid looked at Fang lustily, which made both Fang and I very uncomfortable. "Okay. Nicholas, what kind of modeling do you usually do? Nude? Mind if I get a sneak peek?"

Fang stood up abruptly, knocking her wandering hand off his thigh. "This is ridiculous. You are obviously not taking this seriously. Please stop feeling me up, thank you very much. I think this has gone far enough. Leave, Ms. Dwyer." Brigid stood up, dropping her notepad and pen and went for the direct approach.

"Nicholas, please, I heard you hired the last reporter. Why not me? I'm five times as pretty as _her._" She shot me a scathing look, which probably wouldn't have scared a baby. Wait, I take that back. Any baby would cry at the sight of her.

"Because, unlike you, Max is smart, funny, not to mention young and beautiful. Ms. Dwyer, if you don't leave now, I will have security escort you out."

As it turned out, security did have to drag Brigid out, kicking and screaming, while all the models looked on with mild interest. "Wonder how that article will turn out," Iggy mused.

**Fang's POV**

"Max, check this out." I handed the gorgeous girl I liked to call my girlfriend the latest issue of _The Birdseye View._ It was opened up to Brigid's article about HMA. Max grabbed it and started reading aloud to all the other models.

_HMA: Pretty Little Liars? Written by Brigid Dwyer. Hawk Modeling Agency, more commonly known as HMA, is the central hub of the latest fashions in Arizona. Nationally ranked, HMA stands out as one of the most prestigious modeling agencies in the USA. The models themselves are constants, not new ones every week like other agencies. "We like to give our fans a bit of familiarity every month. It helps them connect to each model," director of HMA Chet Bachelor explains. "Each set and clothing, to some extent, is based on our personalities and preferences," adds the stunning star model Dylan Gunther-Hagen. "I'm just an all-around, all-American guy. And my portfolio supports that."_

_Recently, HMA hired former reporter for _The Birdseye View_ Maxine Rode, despite her obvious lack of beauty and her awful fashion sense. When asked about her experience as a model, Rode replies, "Is that your question? I'm a whore who doesn't deserve this job." Further investigation reveals that Rode stole the open position meant for another hopeful young fan. "I don't know who she thinks she is, but she stole the opportunity of a lifetime from someone else," Gunther-Hagen declares._

_Rode has risen to fame in the modeling world, thanks to lies and cheating. Publicly dating Nickolas Walker has given her more chances to raise her popularity, when in fact, Rode is secretly dating Jim Griffiths, another young model with the same credentials as Walker. Furthermore-_

"This is a load of crap!" Max slammed the paper down. "The only names she got right were hers and Dylan's. And she definitely misquoted me." Iggy proceeded to read the rest of the article to himself while Max angrily ranted about Brigid's numerouserrors in the piece. If you're wondering how the blind guy read, he had his own copy of the newspaper in Braille.

"She wasn't even here long enough to interview Dylan," Gazzy pointed out. "And, no offense Angel, you and Dylan have an unusual last name. If she can't even spell 'Ride' correctly, how the _heck _did she spell 'Gunther-Hagen'?"

"He's right." Angel smiled at Gazzy, who blushed. "I heard Dylan talking on the phone last night. I think it was with the reporter lady."

"Ang, by any chance did you say anything about Max during your interview?" Iggy called out.

"No, she didn't even bring her up. I just told her how much I loved being a model and wearing all the clothes. And I may or may not have mentioned her lack of a boyfriend and her overuse of makeup."

"Why, Ig?" I picked up the newspaper Max had been reading and scanned the last part.

"Well, Brigid here says that Angel quote-unquote says 'Maxine hates everyone, she scares me. My brother's a saint for putting up with that'."

"Okay, that's it, I'm going to kill her." I pulled Max back down to the couch and wrapped an arm around her comfortingly. "I don't get how she got this piece of garbage past Tyler, the editor!"

"It says it was edited by a D.G.H. Dylan!" Iggy seethed. "That no-good little-"

"Iggy, language!" I said sharply. "Look, nobody is killing anyone. Everyone just calm down, we'll get Nudge and Jeb in here and we'll talk about this."

"Don't you mean _Monica _and _Chet_?" Iggy sneered.

Before I had a chance to scold my best friend, Sam (or _Nathan,_ as Brigid wrote) walked in meekly.

"Max, Nicholas, James, and Angel. Come with me, Jeb wants to see you all. It's about the article."

**Sorry, I would've uploaded earlier but I needed to help my dad with his fish tanks. :P Next chapter is on Saturday, per usual. What does 2+2 equal? ~Hellisa**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey, mates. 'Tis I, Hellisa. ;) No, I'm not going to let Max murder Brigid. Come on, people, have some class.**

**OVER 100 REVIEWS! Sweet! Thanks so much. I love reading reviews.**

**Max's POV, Chp 11**

I stood in front of Jeb's desk, trying to swallow my nervousness. Fang squeezed my hand comfortingly. I shot him a grateful look and Iggy looked towards a wall a few feet to the left of Jeb. Angel was in front of me.

Jeb looked us over, shockingly serious for once. He had an unfolded copy of _The View _on his desk, some parts highlighted. "I assume you all know why I called you in here today?" he said gravely. Iggy's head snapped over towards Jeb's voice.

"Is it about the half-assed article the stupid reporter wrote?" Iggy guessed sarcastically. I nudged him sharply in the ribs for swearing. "For the record, my name isn't Jim."

Jeb ran a hand through his thinning hair, growling a bit. "Yes, I know, James. But some people don't know that. They'll believe anything they read, especially since the world is of the opinion models are shallow, manipulative, and stupid."

"But _we're _not," Angel pointed out. "I hear people talking on the streets. We have more interesting stuff to say then 80% of them."

"I know, Angel, sweetheart." Jeb's voice softened as he spoke to the tween model. "But this is bad publicity. It really is. Maximum, I'm truly sorry, but I don't see any other way. I'm going to have to let you go."

"If she goes, I do too," Fang objected. Iggy quickly seconded it for himself.

"Fang, Iggy, no!" I pulled them both back a bit so we could talk privately. "Guys, I can't let you do this."

"Oh, Maxie, we want to, though." Iggy grinned at me, his sightless eyes glistening with trust. "We're rich enough to live comfortably for a while, and it's not like we can't get another job."

"Max, I'm not letting you go. I'm famous, and it won't be hard to get a job. Max, trust me." I looked at the two of them.

"You're both crazy, you know that?" Iggy chuckled and nodded. We returned to Jeb.

"Have you made your decisions?" Jeb had given Angel a sugar-free lollipop to eat while we talked.

"Yes. If you fire Max, we're both leaving too." Fang held his head up high.

Jeb sighed. "That's unfortunate. Pack your bags, all three of you. Angel, you can go. I want you guys out by 2 this afternoon."

I nodded stiffly and we left the room so we could pack. I've only been here a few months, but it still feels like home.

"I'm sorry I dragged you guys into this." We stood in the hallway. Fang's rom was across from mine and Iggy's was next to Fang's.

"Chill, Max. It's fine," Iggy reassured me.

"Still. You guys shouldn't have to try to find an apartment to live in. Ella and I have a big enough house for all four of us, you can move in. It's the least I can do." They tried to argue, but I shut them down each time until they agreed.

It was about half an hour later I realized I should probably inform my sister about the three new residents at her house. I picked up my phone and texted Ella.

_FlyOnMax: Els?_

_EllaM: Max, im in school now._

_FlyOnMax: Yeah, I know. Is the key where it usually is?_

_EllaM: Yeah. y?_

_FlyOnMax: I'm coming home. I was fired. Oh, and Iggy and Fang are coming with me. Is that okay?_

_EllaM: MAX! Y DIDN'T YOU WARN ME‽ TWO SMEXY MODELS ARE GOING TO BE LIVING WITH US? I'LL BE HOME IN TEN MINUTES!_

_FlyOnMax: Ella... Calm down, take a few deep breaths, and don't ditch school._

_FlyOnMax: Ella?_

_FlyOnMax: You're so explaining this to mom when she gets a call about you leaving._

I pocketed my phone and finished boxing all my stuff. It was near noon by the time I was fully packed and my room was stripped bare, save the desk and bed. Angel walked into my room.

"Max, do you really have to leave?" she asks. I sat down on what used to be my bed and motioned for her to sit next to me.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Ang, that's how businesses work. Get rid of the person making you look bad. I expected it, to be honest."

"And Fang, Iggy, and Gazzy?" Gazzy? Oh, right. Iggy's brother. Of course he'd leave too. The guilt in my heart worsened, weighing me down just a little more. I had just taken the young, 14-year-old from the only life he'd ever really known.

My guilt fest was interrupted by a knock on what used to be my door. Now I guess it's just a door. I opened it and Fang poked his head in.

"Hey, Max. Hi, Ang. Angel, can I speak to Max alone for a tic?" Angel nodded and gave me an awkward sideways hug and darted out of the room. Fang took a seat next to me.

"You done packing already, Fang? I would've thought that you would have a lot more clothes than me." Jeb had said we could keep the clothes we've already worn during our shoots. I'd taken some of the prettier dresses and things.

"Half of the clothes I wear are basically the same. I'm leaving them for Nudge to recycle. Or, more likely, burn. It's Iggy who loves his clothes." I managed a half grin, which Fang took as success. "I'm telling you," he persevered, "the clothes he wears! You'd think, since his eyesight, he'd wear all one color or at least solid colors. But no, it's all stripes and tye-dye for him."

I couldn't help but laugh at Fang's mocking expression. Fang grinned at me, a real smile, not like the heart-melting one he uses for fans and the public. Despite this, it still made me feel like mush.

Cautiously, Fang placed his hand on my side and leaned in for the third time in two days. Our heads tilted slightly in opposite directions as we got closer to each other. Internally, I was freaking out. Oh gods, was this really happening? Holy crap, holy crap, holy- _Fang._

Our lips touched and this time, nobody interrupted. He moved his lips against mine, and I returned the favor, opening my mouth slightly so we could kiss better. This one lasted longer than the one yesterday morning, and it was more passionate, less scared.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, just kissing, since my brain seemed to have shrunk to nothing. All I could feel, taste, and smell was Fang. And let me tell you, I had absolutely no problem with that.

A small explosion that signified one of Iggy and Gazzy's bombs had gone off was our cue to stop. We broke apart, taking in deep breaths of air, staring in slight shock at each other.

**Fang's POV**

Max stood up swiftly, nearly knocking over a large pile of boxes in her haste. Mumbling something about checking on Iggy, she hurried out of the room. I groaned, flopping backwards onto the bare mattress, my hands covering my face. I scared her off, didn't I?

I had to be stupid and fall in love with a girl way out of my league. didn't I? She was beautiful, gorgeous, smart, witty, and not to mention sweet, kind, and overall fun to be around. What chance did I, a harebrained pretty boy, have with her?

**Max's POV**

I had to be stupid and fall in love with a boy way out of my league, didn't I? He was hot, sexy, intelligent, and was as sarcastic as I am. Not to mention tall, dark, and handsome. Every girl's dream. What chance did I, some half-rate reporter-turned-model, have with him?

**Iggy's POV (Holy crap!)**

I was 90% certain I heard the sounds of quiet kissing in Max's room when Fang went in and Angel left, and my suspicions were confirmed when Max was suddenly next to me, speaking in a dazed voice.

"We kissed, Ig. I don't know what happened, we just leaned in and kissed! It was amazing, I mean I loved it, but..." Max trailed off, unsure of what to say next. Being my helpful self, I finished her thought for her.

"But now you've reached the awkward point in the relationship where you both have no idea where to go from here, am I right?" I could visualize Max's astonished face, judging by her soft gasp. "Oh, Maxie. Despite my lack of experience in long-term relationships, I do know a couple things."

"Okay, so what should we do now?"

"Oh, you know, couple-y things. Kissing and holding hands. Act normal, don't do anything stupid." We talked for a bit more, most of my advice being for her to be herself and relax. Enjoy it.

My mind began wandering after Max left to see how Gazzy was doing. Max mentioned to us that we were going to be living with her 18-year-old sister, Ella. I wonder what she looks like...

**Happy Saturday! Or, it's Saturday for me. Time zones may differ. Hope you enjoyed it! ~Hellisa**


	12. Chapter 12

**Good morning/afternoon/evening/night to you all! I forgot to mention last chapter, 2+2=fish. Or dead fish. Either. Yeah. :D**

**School started on Monday, so I had limited time to write. New characters (or old? Hm...) ahead!**

**Max's POV, Chp 12**

It's been two weeks since we'd been fired, and I'd managed to get a job at a nearby café. Fang was working part-time at a small hospital, since he studied medicine in school. Iggy worked with Ella at the pet clinic because he wanted to be closer to her, probably.

Ella, to her defense, tried to remain calm when she saw Fang, Iggy, and Gazzy in real life for the first time. Tried, being the operative word here. She nearly made Iggy blind _and _deaf with her high-pitched squeal. After the novelty wore off, Ella showed them the many empty rooms in our too-large house. After everyone had been settled, we sat around and talked about modeling and getting new jobs.

A male voice brought me back to the slightly depressing present. "A blueberry scone and your number, please." I gave the guy a once-over. Probably still in high school, judging by his soccer jersey and acne.

"Here's your scone, that will be $2.50. And I already have a boyfriend." This wasn't my first time being hit on or worse, recognized, at work. Each time, I had to hold back a sarcastic comment and politely tell them that no, I wasn't going to sign anything for them.

The teenager continued to leer at me. "But he doesn't have to know," he wheedled. "It can be our secret."

I let out an impatient breath. "Sir, you're holding up the line."

Scowling, the guy paid and stormed off with his laptop. It was exactly one hour later when another guy recognized me. I was on break and loitering by the door, texting Fang.

"Pardon, but aren't you from Hawk Modeling Agency?" the London accent surprised me, and I looked over to see who spoke. The voice belonged to a neat-looking young man, probably 25, with thick, brown hair.

"I used to work there, yes," I replied, slipping my phone back in my pocket.

The man seemed slightly flustered. "Oh, I don't usually do this. I'm sorry if I offended you. I just picked up some mail for my sister, and I saw your picture on the cover. I was surprised, forgive me."

Confusion settled over my features. Cover? I was never on the cover. Unless Jeb used Fang and my couples pictures. No, he wouldn't. What? "Can I see the magazine for a sec?" I asked. The Brit nodded and dug around in his bag before producing the familiar glossy cover I'd grown used to seeing all around the Agency.

On the cover, sure enough, was a picture of me in the latest fall apparel, showing off, twirling. The background was a grassy yard with a small pile of leaves gathered up. A feeling of dread rose up in me. I had never modeled for the fall clothing. That was supposed to be done the day after I was fired.

I handed the magazine back to the nice man. "Thank you. It's alright, lots of people recognize me. Mostly males, if you can believe that." I pulled my phone back out and sent a quick text to Fang while the British guy replaced the magazine in his bag. "Look, it was nice meeting you. My break is ending, I have to go. See you later." I gave his a small wave and walked into the back room of the café.

I tried to push the picture out of my head the rest of the day, but I just couldn't. I was gnashing my teeth as I drove home in my little decade-old car. When I got home, I all but ran inside and grabbed Ella's copy of _Flighty Fashions._ Ella looked at me oddly.

"Max, what's the rush? Excited to see your replacements?" Ella walked over form her spot in the living room where she'd been reading a clothing magazine. "Whoa, Max, provocative, much?" The page I was turned to was one showing off HMA's new undergarment section, and guess who was front and center?

"What is it? Did I miss it? I hate being blind, sometimes!" Iggy came bounding down the stairs, Gazzy following close behind. "What are you guys doing?"

"Reading _Flighty Fashions_, Max modeled for underwear," Ella teased. Fang appeared and looked at the page, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Max, when was this? I don't remember doing the half-naked shots yet." Fang looked at me questioningly.

"Boys, what do you say about a visit to our ex employer?" I asked, heading for the door.

"What for?" Gazzy demanded. He wasn't in such a great mood when he found out he had to go to a public school, though it improved when girls flirted with his because of his looks.

Iggy and Fang's eyes showed they wondered the same thing. I looked straight at Ella, who was kind of lost in this conversation.

"Oh, just a family reunion," I replied vaguely. Shrugging, we all clambered into Fang's car, him and I in the front and Iggy, Ella, and Gazzy squished in the back. Iggy sat next to Ella and seemed pleased about their proximity.

Half an hour later, we all walked into the lounge. For a high-class agency, HMA's security was lacking. Scattered around the room were five pretty/handsome young adults. Their heads all turned to look at us as we walked in.

I looked at them all as they gathered in a line in front of us, similar to the one we were unconsciously making, each of them facing one person. Across from Gazzy was a shorter, sandy-blonde kid who looked a bit out of place. He was cute, and young-looking. He couldn't be more than 15, but at the right angle, he could pass for 10.

Next to him and across from Iggy was a taller and older guy with headphones around his neck. He had dark brown hair and wore aviators, despite the fact we were indoors.

Across from Ella was an Asian girl, very pretty, younger than me by a couple years, I'd guess. She had that "innocent-on-the-outside" look about her.

Fang faced down a sneering blonde girl. She was as thin as a rail, but judging by the pile of food she'd been eating when we walked in, it was just genetics and not... other things. She was clearly feistier than the others as she was holding Fang's gaze without flinching.

"Come to beg for your jobs back, Maximum?" mocked the girl in front of me. "It was never really yours to begin with, though. I was the person who was signed up for a job that day you arrived. You stole my spot in this place, and now I've taken it back." Fang, Gazzy, and Ella's eyes locked onto her in shock, for very different reasons. Iggy's eyebrow creased in slight confusion.

"Just remember I was so outstanding I got hired on the spot without even trying," I retorted.

"I'm better at this than you. I've worked hard, I know what I'm doing. What about you?"

"Forgotten who I am already? I'm hurt, considering I'm your twin, Maya," I growled scathingly.

The girl in front of me who held everyone's attention glared icily at me with familiar brown eyes. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled in a tight bun, but you could see the magenta streak she had put in her hair to differentiate us when we were younger. It appeared she'd continued to dye it even when we hadn't been in contact in four years.

**Ella's POV**

I looked uneasily between my two sisters as they argued with each other. Maya had disappeared from our lives the second she and Max became legal adults, swearing to become successful in either modeling or acting ("Both is better, of course,").

I silently compared the twin sisters. So alike, yet so, so different. Maya held herself high with pride, like a real celebrity. She seemed to radiate authority over the others. She was slightly taller than Max, though it may have just been the heels.

If Maya held herself with grace, Max slunk around, her head low, but her eyes still blazing, demanding the attention of others around her. Maya was elegance, but Max was skill and fluidity.

Both of them refused to stand in the other's shadow, taking different but equally imposing courses in high school. Maya was class president and took plenty of A.P. (Advanced Placement) courses. Max was captain of nearly all the sports teams and graduated as salutatorian. Actually, both Maya and Max were salutatorians. They both were equal in every way, so our school couldn't decide.

Anyways, Max and Maya were staring each other down. I could see their identical looks (besides Maya's dyed hair) were confusing the others. Wanting to intervene before it got ugly (trust me, they've had some fistfights before, and no one knew who to side with), I stepped forward between them.

"Max, Maya, cool it. Maya, it's good to see you again. Mom's been asking around for you. Give her a call sometime. Max, calm down. Fang, do you mind?" Fang wrapped his arms around Max's waist and she automatically leaned back against his chest, tension clearly leaving her body.

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" drawled Iggy. The big guy in front of him that looked like a skater scoffed.

"What are you, blind or something? They're identical!" I wanted to punch his lights out, but considering he was practically a foot taller and seventy-five pounds heavier, I restrained myself.

"Yeah, got a problem with that, man?" Iggy glared at the guy's mouth. The dude instantly retreated, taking back his words.

"Oh, I'm sorry, man, I didn't know."

"Whatever. Gaz?" Gazzy immediately started muttering in Iggy's ear, explaining what was going on.

"Ella, nice to see you, too. You must be 18 now?" Maya and I were actually on good terms, unlike her and Max. Too often, i'd have to act as a mediator for them so they wouldn't rip each other's throats out.

"Does it matter? Now, can someone please explain why there are two Mayas?" The scrawny, smallest new model demanded.

"One was bad enough," agreed the tall blonde facing Fang.

"Star," warned the Asian one.

"Right, let's all sit down and talk," Fang ordered.

Everyone muttered in agreement, though slightly dejectedly. Max was still glaring at Maya as our estranged sister checked Fang out. I groaned. Not this _again._

**We're getting closer to the end! I'm not sure how many more chapters, I'm doing this week-by-week. But we're getting there! What do you think about the new models? Are they too OOC? ~Hellisa**


	13. Chapter 13

**Yes, I've been procrastinating. I read like, 400 pages of this disturbing book (The Girl Who Played With Fire, anyone?) today, now I'm a bit disoriented and mierda.**

**Max's POV, Chp 13**

I really, really, really didn't like the way Maya was looking at Fang. He was mine, obviously. I made a point of sitting next to him, his arm around my shoulders. Ella was next to me, then Iggy, and then Gazzy. Across from us was my darling sister, still making doe eyes at Fang.

"How about we introduce ourselves," Ella suggested. "I'm Ella Ride, Max and Maya's younger sister." Ella looked pointedly at me, no-so-subtly indicating that I was next.

"I'm Maximum, Ella's sister and Maya's twin. And this is my boyfriend, Fang." I rested my head on Fang's shoulder. Fang nodded coolly at the new models. Maya didn't seem pleased at the last part of my statement.

"I'm James, but call me Iggy. Yes, I'm blind. This is my brother, Zephyr, and you'll figure out his nickname soon enough." Iggy winked at the space between the tall blonde model and the shorter, Asian one.

"I'm Maya, but you all obviously know that already," my lovely sister explained.

"Ratchet, babe," the skater-boy looking one. He reclined as best he could on the couch, propping his feet up on the table between the couches.

"I'm called Star," Blondie said, glaring icily at Ratchet. Ratchet merely winked at her, and the Asian, next to her, blushed.

"I'm Kate," the small girl said, trying to hide her flushed cheeks. Our eyes automatically turned to the last, unnamed person in the room, next to Ratchet, half-hiding.

The scrawny little model looked a bit nervous at the attention. "I'm Holden."

"Nah, he's Starfish!" Ratchet exclaimed. "We call him that because he knows everything there is to know about starfish. Might as well be one." Holden, or Starfish, rolled his eyes.

"Now that introductions are out of the way, Max has something to say." Ella continued to play peacemaker and turned to me.

I had a whole rant planned out, but since everyone was playing nice, I decided to tone it down a bit. "I just wanted to know how Maya's acting career has been going. Especially since she had the time to jump right on board with HMA as soon as I left." I gave Maya a sweet smile.

"After you were fired, you mean," my twin corrected smugly. I took a deep breath, calming myself. _Don't kill her yet, don't kill her yet, don't kill her yet,_ I chanted to myself in my head. "Well, I was between auditions, and I got an emergency call from a certain Jeb Batchelder saying he was a few models short and if I'd still like a job, I could have one. Of course, after a long discussion with my agent, I decided to take one for the team and help HMA out."

"That's a load of bull," I muttered to Fang. He didn't respond, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly.

"What is going on in here?" Of course, who else, but Gunther-Hagen?

**Ella's POV**

"Oh, my sister and her friends are hassling us because we took their jobs." Maya strolled over to Dylan, swaying her hips more than . Dylan scowled at us.

"Max, Nicholas, James, Zephyr, you were fired. And who are you?" Dylan's tone turned slightly flirty. I rolled my eyes and Max stood up, glaring daggers at Dylan. This should be interesting.

"That's my little sister, Ella, so hands _off, _perv. She's 18." Surprisingly, it wasn't Max who spoke first. Max nodded approvingly at her twin.

"So what? She's legal," said Dylan. "What's six years between friends?" Maya left his side to stand by her twin sister. Neither of them looked amused. I remained where I was, knowing not to get involved when my sisters got defensive. Remember how I mentioned they were scary when they were pissed at each other? Yeah, but when someone they mutually dislike tries to hit on me, they gang up on him. And if one of them is dangerous, both of them together was like a death wish.

"What did you say?" Nobody could have possibly misinterpreted Max's lethal tone. Even Ratchet looked nervous, and as far as I could tell, he was the essence of "cool" (or tried to be, at least). Fang started to get up, but I shook my head at him. "Not yet," I mouthed. This was for them to settle, and anyone who got in their way... Well, good luck.

**Fang's POV**

I wanted to stop Max from doing something she'd regret later to Dylan, but at the same time, I wanted someone to get Dylan off his high horse. "Gaz," I said softly, as to not break up the hate-fest going on between the Ride twins and Dylan. The wide-eyed 14-year-old looked at me, looking quite a bit out of place. "Why don't you take Angel and get us some pizza? I'm starving." I gave him a couple $20's.

"I'll drive them," Holden offered. After the three of them had gone, Max continued.

"Never hit on our sister, ever."

"If you value your life, don't come near her." I have honestly never seen someone look so threatening n my life. And there were two of them.

"Or what?" Dylan mocked. I hopped up, sensing trouble. I wasn't alone, everyone else stood up.

"Max, Maya, chill," Ella ordered. Ratchet took a different tactic, speaking to Dylan.

"Dyl, man, don't provoke them. You don't know what Maya can do."

I took Max's hand, rubbing soothing circles with my thumb. She did not break Dylan's gaze, I noticed, neither did Maya. Maybe they were more alike than I thought before. They were both insanely loyal to Ella.

"Or we'll kick your ass," Max stately firmly. "You're 24, Dylan, why are you chasing 18-year-old girls?"

"Because 21-year-olds are bitches," Dylan shot back. None of us were prepared for the powerful right hook Max dealt him three seconds later. Maya followed her up with an uppercut to the stomach.

"Oof!" Dylan fell to his knees. Ratchet helped him up, letting Dylan lean on him. I held Max's arms behind her back, and Star did the same to Maya.

"Whoa, violence!" Ratchet tried to lighten the mood slightly. "Chick fight!"

"Watch the face!" Dylan whined. Max suddenly broke out of my grip and punched him hard in the face, her fist solidly connecting with his left cheekbone. Dylan's head whipped to the side, and a roundhouse kick from the same person made him drop back to his knees. Maya's leg shot up and her heel made his head snap backwards. Max's fist lashed out again, and Dylan's nose made very sickening _cracking _sound.

"Stop it!" I wrapped my arms around Max, making it impossible for her to move her arms, and hooked a leg around hers to make it harder for her to kick. Star and Kate opted to drag Maya backwards to get her away from Dylan. Iggy knelt by Dylan to make sure his nose wasn't broken too badly.

"My face!" Dylan cried out. "What do I look like?" HIs voice was nasally and an octave higher. Ratchet dragged him over to a full-length mirror and Dylan let out a very high-pitched, girly scream.

"What the hell?" Naturally, the commotion drew the attention of Jeb. I looked around the room. Ratchet and Iggy were on their knees next to Dylan, whose face was bleeding profusely. Maya was being restrained by Star and Kate, and I was wrapped around Max. Both Maya and Max had blood on them.

Yep, this was going to be fun.

**Sorry this was posted so late. :) Seriously, some of you are really violent. Especially towards Brigid and Maya. Gods. I love it. :D ~Hellisa**


	14. Chapter 14

**I love you all so much.**

**Have any of you guys ever listened to Lily Allen? She's an English pop singer. I love her voice. :)**

**Sorry it's a bit shorter, I was pressed for time.**

**Fang's POV, Chp 14**

This feels familiar. We all stood in Jeb's overly large office. Dylan was holding his nose, whimpering about how imperfect his nose was now. Iggy was trying unsuccessfully trying to staunch the bleeding, but Dylan was waving him away. Star was trying to look unfazed by the situation between Ratchet and Kate. Maya was looking intently at the bloodstains on her dress. Max seemed unconcerned and was examining her knuckles. Ella was very uncomfortable with the whole situation. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket and put on my emotionless face.

"I have several questions. Where shall I begin? How about, why are you here?" Jeb pointed at Iggy, Max, and me. "Who is she?" Ella. "And why, why, _why _were you two beating Dylan up?"

"They assaulted me!" Dylan's messed-up voice wailed.

"Stop _talking, _I'm trying to assess the damage!" Iggy huffed. He didn't like Dylan any more than we did, but he was the only person here who had any sort of medical experience besides me, and I wasn't helping him.

"Sir, if I may shed some light on the current situation," Maya began, but Jeb cut her off.

"Hold on, which one are you? Maximum or Maya?" Max and Maya looked in confusion at each other. For anyone who knew at least one of them, it was blindingly obvious. Maya spoke carefully while Max was brusque and to-the-point. Maya wore makeup that was done by a practiced hand and had magenta in her hair. Max wouldn't be caught dead in a dress unless it was for a photoshoot.

"I'm Maya," the corresponding twin explained. "That's Max and my sister, Ella. She came with them."

"My face!" Everyone started to ignore Dylan, besides Iggy and Ratchet, who was trying to get Dylan to stand up on his own.

"We came back so I could see my sister, we haven't seen her in years," Max added helpfully.

"I was getting to that!" Maya glared at Max.

"Well, you were taking too long."

"Break it up." I moved myself in between them. "Sir, if I may?"

Jeb looked relieved to avoid a catfight between Max and Maya, whose moment of sisterly bonding had long since passed. "Yes, Nicholas. Please. I trust you."

Choosing my words carefully, I tried to explain everything that had happened, omitting some parts.

"So, let me get this straight, Dylan, you told them that 21-year-olds are bitches? Really? To their faces?" Jeb shook his head at Dylan, who had the decency to look ashamed. For a second.

"They both had it coming to them. Honestly. You make _me _sound like the bad guy," Dylan ranted, his voice painfully nasally and high-pitched. "Let me tell my side of the story. I walked into the lounge and saw _them,_" Dylan swung his arm to point at me and Max, nearly whacking Iggy on the head as he did so. "I, of course, wanted to know what they were talking about behind my back. Then I noticed that lovely lady over there. Naturally, I turned on the charm, but those two bimbos stared beating me up. I, being the manly person that I am, didn't fight back." Dylan smirked in triumph at me. "Nicholas assisted them, too. He pretended to help by holding Maximum back, but she got away with minimal effort.

"They're all against me. I'll be pressing charges, of course. Attempted murder, assault and battery, willful harm, and so on. Also, a restraining order on Maximum, Maya, Nicholas, and James. I assume they'll all be arrested, and I'll get paid leave for recovery time."

"I'm trying to help you, you dolt!" Iggy snapped. "Your nose is broken. Stop talking or I won't be able to set it properly!"

"You're making it worse!" Dylan snarled.

"Fine, do it yourself!" Iggy rolled his unseeing eyes and walked to stand next to me, on Max's side. Max couldn't stand to be quiet for so long.

"We were provoked, and you were being a git! You were whining about what you _looked _like. We can all testify to this."

"A restraining order, Dyl? Are you crazy?" Ratchet put in.

Suddenly, everyone was talking at once, sin myself and Ella. "You broke his nose!" "I need to go to a hospital!" "I want my lawyer." "Now why don't we settle down and just-" "Don't call me Sweetheart, or I'll break your neck!" "My face is marred!" "I had a reason!"

A very, very loud scream stopped us from tearing ourselves apart. We all looked to the door and saw Nudge, Holden, Angel, and Gazzy staring at us, wide-eyed. Nudge was the one who screamed. Gazzy was holding Angel's hand and Holden was carrying several pizza boxes that smelled like heaven.

Nudge looked proud. "Works every time. Now, let's talk this out _like adults._ All of you, into the lounge. Even you, Mr. Batchelder."

Half an hour later, we were all sitting in a circle on the lounge floor, since there weren't enough seats. Dylan was being tended to by Holden, who seemed to have practice looking at injuries. Each of us had given our version of what happened, and Nudge used a recorder to tape our responses. I have to say, she's pretty resourceful and smart. Dylan passed out due to something Holden gave him for the pain ten minutes ago.

"Jeb- Mr. Batchelder?" I spoke up. Jeb looked over at me. "If we can somehow prove that the article was faked and falsified by the reporter, HMA will get its reputation back and it will discredit everything written by her. If we can do that, can Max, James, Zephyr, and I have our jobs back?"

Jeb thought about it for a long minute. "Okay. I swear, Nicholas, if you were anyone else..." Jeb shook his head, smiling. "You have one week to clear your names. Think that's enough?"

Iggy and Gazzy started grinning like crazy. Max hugged me from the side, even Maya, Ratchet, Star, Kate, and Holden looked impressed.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, sir." I allowed myself a very small smile.

**Okay, it's short, I know. But now, they can talk to Brigid, which I know some of you have waited for for several chapters. Also, yes, I reuploaded this because, as one reviewer pointed out, the ending was rushed and not really well-written. So I redid it. Bite me. And thanks, MPHknows. ~Hellisa**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi, people! :) Sorry, this week has been absolutely INSANE. Club meetings, projects, presentations, club day, more club meetings, a freaking gardening session and potluck... Plus homework. GAHHHH FRICKIN MV.**

**Oh, warning: Slightly stronger language in this one.**

**Max's POV, Chp 15**

One week.

One week to clear our names and prove Brigid totally faked the article. Currently, Iggy, Fang, Gazzy and I were sitting in our living room, brainstorming. Fang was sitting on an armchair and I sat on the floor, leaning back on his legs.

"Why don't we just break into her apartment through the third window on the left, five stories up, tie her up, and make her give a confession and videotape it!" Gazzy grinned, twisting some wires together on a plastic thing he and Iggy were working on.

"Where would we get the rope?" Iggy asked. Yes, because _that _was the problem with that plan.

"In the cabinet above her stove," Gazzy replied nonchalantly.

"Why do you know where she keeps the rope? And for that matter, why do you know exactly which window is connected to her apartment?" Ella returned from the kitchen with a tray of drinks and snacks. "And who wants chocolate chip cookies?"

Gazzy looked down, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I may or may not have staked the place out a couple weeks ago because I wanted to see where the best place to hide a bomb was. A harmless bomb!" he added hastily, seeing my expression. "Like, a paint bomb, or maybe a stink bomb. To get revenge, you know? So I hid cameras in her apartment. I figure that the best place would be in her bathroom, she spends _ages _in there, staring at her mirror."

"You'd better not be spying on her in the bathroom," I warned. Gazzy fake-gagged on his cookie.

"_Gross._ She's so old. Yuck. I have a camera in the hallway facing the bathroom, she leaves the door opened when she does her makeup."

"Did you rappel up the side of the building?" Iggy asked excitedly. Gazzy grinned back, his young eyes lighting up with excitement.

"No, but I did use our firework catapult to launch a robot I made into her open window. It looks like a spider and can climb on the walls. I programmed it to set up the cameras for me."

"How about tying her up is our Plan B. Last resort, yeah?" Ella, the pacifist, was a bit unnerved by the 14-year-old genius. "Um, Fang, any ideas?"

My boyfriend shrugged. "I'm all for the stink paint bomb idea, for later. But, as for now, we need to get our hands on that recorder she used. Chances are, she still has it. If we can get that, we can prove that she misquoted us, _badly._"

I stood up and sat back down on his lap, giving him a peck on the cheek for being smart. He wrapped his arms around me. Gazzy faked-gagged again and Ella winked at me. Iggy smirked, his creepily-accurate hearing letting him know what was happening.

"Max, can you get us into the View office? I could pick the lock, but if you have a key, that's easier." Iggy, thankfully, didn't mock our happy relationship.

I automatically reached to my keyring. "No, I returned it to Anne when I cleaned out my desk. But, I do know someone who can get us in."

**Time Skip**

**Tyler's POV**

"Hello?" I picked up my phone. Who was calling at 8:30 PM?

"Hi, Ty? It's Max." I nearly spit out my club soda.

"Max? As in, Maximum Ride, former reporter and model? Well, hello. And to what do I owe this pleasure?" I reclined in my seat, knowing Max would be able to figure out I was raising my eyebrows.

"I need a favor." That was definitely Max. No bullshitting around the point.

"What's in it for me?" In all honesty, I would've done it for free, most likely. Max and I were close.

"I'll write you the best goddamn article I've ever written, all about a corrupt businessman. I did all the research before I quit, never published. Still relevant." Damn it. Max knew how to appeal to my inner editor. Max continued, knowing she had my attention. "You can run it under with your name as co-writer. The _View _is the biggest paper in the city. Imagine the scandal. What do you say?"

It was truly a no-brainer. "What do you need?"

**Time Hop**

**Fang's POV**

I slipped into the building, my footsteps falling silently onto the tile flooring, thanks to years of practice. Iggy and Gazzy had dressed me up for this "mission", both being very excited to test out some of their inventions. I swear, after those two leave the modeling business, they'll become evil geniuses.

I flipped open the leather strap on my wrist and checked the computerized map. Tugging my black beanie down further, I slipped into the entrance to the stairs. My headlight shone, not brightly enough to be seen from the outside. Weaving through the cubicles, I found Brigid's desk, right where Max said it was. Photos from various shoots and magazines were framed on her desk, mostly consisting of Dylan, Iggy, me, and a few other famous guys. Sheesh. We're just models. Not exactly superstars.

I rifled through her papers and then her cabinets, making sure my meddling wasn't noticeable. My black gloves helped me not leave any fingerprints. I opened up her bottom cabinet drawer. Bingo. There were a dozen of the voice recorder things lying around.

I touched my com set. "I found them. I need to listen to them to figure out which one she used with us."

Max's voice crackled in my ear. "I can't _believe _this turned into one of those lame heist movies. You could seriously go to jail for this, Fang."

"I know," I said simply. I was doing this for her, she deserved this. Plus, I wasn't going to let Brigid get away with destroying HMA's name.

I picked up the top recorder and pressed _play. _Some stuffy voice started talking about the new building on First street. Nope. The next one was about somebody who ran a marathon in two and a half hours.

"Fang, night guard! We'll try to stall. Hurry up!" Iggy's frantic voice rang in my ears. I tugged open my rucksack and threw all of the recorders in, quickly shutting the drawer and hurrying as fast as I could without making a sound.

I froze as I heard the elevator _ding._ "I thought you were stalling him?" I hissed into my earpiece.

"We did! We changed the electronic locks. It's not our fault he has a master key that overrides the passcode!" Iggy protested. I could hear him and Gazzy frantically typing in the background.

I slipped behind a cubicle, shying away from the bright beam of the night guard's flashlight. Thank the gods I had the sense to switch off my headlight earlier.

"Fucking night job," I heard the guard swear. "I'm tired. Delusional. Should've gone for the post guarding art. At least then I'd get to shove idiots around if they crossed the line. But a night guard at a fucking _newspaper?_ Who the hell would want to break in here?"

I held my breath as the guard walked not ten feet away from me, still whining about his job. He was a big guy, no doubt he worked out a lot. I couldn't take him.

"FANG!" Damn it, Gazzy! His voice was audible. The guard turned his head in my vague direction. Shit. He was between me and the staircase. I couldn't make it to the elevator, it would be too slow. He was getting closer.

"Who was that?" The flashlight was getting dangerously close to me now. Fuck.

**Happy Saturday (Or Sunday. Or Monday. Or Friday). I love reviews, they make my day and I go around, smiling like an idiot. ~Hellisa**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry about the cliffhanger, guys. To repay you, I thought I'd give you guys a longer chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Don't even give me sh!t about advertising the Aston Martin Vanquish. Not my intention. I don't own it.**

**Yes, I know Nudge is supposed to be the computer expert, but I couldn't really see a way to fit her into all this.**

**Max's POV, Chp 16**

"Iggy, you've got to get him out of this," I urged the blind pyro.

"I'm _trying. _Gaz, positions." Gazzy was frantically typing, glancing up at the cameras.

"Fang, crouching behind cubicle 4, guard heading at one step every two seconds in his direction, taking his right. Currently, he's at the 3 O'clock of cubicle 7." Gazzy was speaking to Iggy rapidly, while Iggy ran his fingers across his Braille floor plan.

"Fang, in fifteen seconds, turn the corner of your cubicle, to your right. Ten seconds. Five. Two, one, _now._"

"He moved, the guard is exactly opposite him now. Fang, again, in ten." Gazzy continued typing speedily. "Ig, guard turned the corner, now standing where Fang was crouching before. Fang opposite him. Fang! Dart between those cubicles on your left, ahead of you. When he's not looking. Shoot, the guard is turning the corner, he'll see Fang in a second!"

"Gazzy, can you see the guard's nametag?" I demanded, pulling my phone out. Gazzy made one of the cameras zoom onto the guard's chest.

"Ari," Gazzy replied curtly, zooming back out. I cheered silently.

"Fang, you'll need to sprint," I said into Iggy's mike. I found Ari's number on my phone and pressed _send._

On-screen, Ari jerked in surprise and pulled out his phone.

"Fang, get as close to the door as you can!" Gazzy cried, slightly unnecessarily, since Fang was already weaving through the cubicles.

"Hi, Max? Why are you calling this late?" Ari was standing still, though his eyes were still scanning for movement.

"Cousin, hi. I was wondering who's hosting Thanksgiving this year. It couldn't wait, I'm sorry, I didn't want to go to sleep and totally forget about it." I watched the screen. Fang was directly across from the stairwell access door, but he couldn't get through without alerting Ari to his position. Gazzy pumped his fist, saying something about "it" being ready. I hoped whatever "it" was, it would let Fang go unnoticed. Unfortunately, Fang's foot banged against the wall, and Ari perked up.

"Your mother is hosting it. I gotta go, Max." Ari hung up and started to walk towards Fang.

"Gazzy, NOW!" Iggy ordered. Gazzy hit _enter _hard and we all held our breaths. The elevator _dinged _again, and Ari whipped around and started moving quickly towards it. Fang, seeing his chance, slipped onto the stairwell.

I prayed he'd make it.

**Fang's POV**

"Five. Two, one, _now."_ Gazzy's voice was softer now, thankfully, and I smoothly spun around the corner of the cubicle, still crouching. I was trying to control my heavy breathing. Blood pounded in my ears as I eased towards the next corner. Gazzy was talking to Iggy. "Fang, again, in ten." I counted in my head, trying to concentrate, and slid around the corner. The guard and I had now switched positions.

Through the hammering in my ears, my girlfriend's voice came out clearly through the headset. "Fang, you'll need to sprint." I controlled my breathing and aimed for a spot dead ahead of me. Two rows of cubicles down was the area in front of the door.

Suddenly, the guard's phone buzzed. I chanced a glance backwards and saw he wasn't looking up. I didn't waste any time slipping through the cubicles until the doorway was right in front of me. My back was resting against the back of another cubicle. I looked back at the guard. I think Gazzy said his name was Ari? Ari was listening to Max talking, I could hear her through the com.

Trying to get a better view, my foot accidentally knocked against the frickin cubicle corner. Ari spoke quickly to Max and hung up, starting quickly towards me. I noted he had a stun gun on him. I had no doubt he knew how to use that very well. I couldn't make it to the door in time, that much I was certain of. My heart was racing, I prayed to whatever's up there that my friends would come to my rescue.

Suddenly, by some miracle (or Gazzy's hacking skills), the elevator dinged, and Ari's head turned towards it, naturally. I dived for the door and was through it. As I was closing the door behind me, I caught a glimpse of an empty elevator and Ari's eyes turning back to me.

Panting, I frantically looked for a way to hold the door closed. It was one of those doors that had the push-lever, so I jammed a piece of wood between the door and the lever, effectively stopping it from being able to open. I took the stairs three at a time, making sure my beanie still covered my face. Even if Iggy and Gazzy erased me from the cameras, I couldn't risk being recognized by anyone outside. Then again, who is outside at 1:15 A.M.?

"Move, move, move!" I practically flew out of the door and into the parking garage. I heard the elevator _ding,_ and, knowing it would be Ari, I sprinted into the street. Not literally. I nearly cried in relief when I saw my black Aston Martin Vanquish, complete with flame decal. I flung myself into the driver's seat. Ella was in the passenger's seat, my keys in the ignition already, my beautiful car thrumming with power.

I tested out the claim that the Vanquish could 0 to 60 mph in four seconds. It didn't disappoint as I careened around a couple corners, Ella's knuckles turning white from holding onto the edges of her seat. Thirty seconds and half a mile later, I slowed down to an easy 30 mph.

Through my headset, I could hear Max, Iggy, and Gazzy cheering. I allowed myself to relax. "We did it!" Iggy exclaimed.

"Sweet," I heard Gazzy crow. "Ari never even saw you."

"Good job, Fang," Ella said weakly. I nodded and made sure to take a very indirect route back to Max and Ella's house with lots of twists and turns. It took an hour to get back, and we were welcomed back with open arms.

When I say open arms, I mean Max flung herself at me, her legs wrapping around my waist. I kissed her on the mouth while Iggy hugged Ella. Max detached herself from me and hugged her sister. Gazzy was sitting in front of his laptop.

**Ari's POV (You know you wanted it)**

It was a routine night. Nothing special, like always. I walked into the workroom. There were six rows of six cubicles, each wall about five feet high. No problem for a guy my height, 6'1", to look over.

I thought a I heard a rustle. I cocked my head. Nothing. "Fucking night job," I muttered to myself. "I'm tired. Delusional. Should've gone for the post guarding art. At least then I'd get to shove idiots around if they crossed the line. But a night guard at a fucking _newspaper?_ Who the hell would want to break in here?"

Not a second later, I heard something that sounded like a radio. "DANG!" I think it said. I heard a soft noise, just on the other side of the cubicle I was standing in front of. Immediately, I pulled out my stun gun and ducked into a defensive stance. "Who was that?" I called warily. My flashlight moved steadily and methodically around the area where I heard the noise. Cautiously, I started moving forward slowly, taking a breath between steps, my eyes watchful, my ears pricked for the slightest movement. I rounded one corner of the cubicle. If I was correct, the burglar was just around the next corner. If they had moved, I would've heard their shoes on the hardwood flooring.

Quickly, I rounded the corner, my stun gun pointing at... nothing. A quick scan showed the burglar wasn't in the vicinity. Suddenly, a sound rang out in the silent room. I jumped, startled. It was my phone. Damn, I thought I turned it off? I checked caller I.D. It was my cousin, Max.

"Hi, Max? Why are you calling this late?" I was a bit busy, but I loved my cousin.

"Cousin, hi. I was wondering who's hosting Thanksgiving this year. It couldn't wait, I'm sorry, I didn't want to go to sleep and totally forget about it."

Trust Max to forget her own mother is hosting it. I opened my mouth, but before I could form words, I heard something bang against something. "Your mother is hosting it. I gotta go, Max." I tucked my phone away and started moving towards the disturbance.

The elevator sounded, and I reacted instinctively, turning around and moving towards it. Whoever was trying to come up or go down would be trapped. The metal doors slid open. Nobody in sight. A distraction. I whipped back around just in time to see a dark figure shut the door to the stairwell. Damn it! He could only go down, though. I darted into the open elevator and hit the _G _button.

The elevator was painfully slow. Finally, the doors slid open. There wasn't anybody in the garage. Faintly, I heard tires. I swore and ran back to the first floor of the newspaper company. From there, I fumbled with the master key. There were security cameras, but I preferred to walk around anyways.

I played back the last ten minutes of footage in the workroom. I watched myself walk around, but with all the cameras, none of them showed even the slightest hint of anyone coming in besides me. Did I really imagine it all?

I leaned back in the chair, running a hand through my thick, brown hair. I need a vacation.

**Max's POV**

"Ari looked at the security cameras. I replayed some old footage from earlier tonight with a new time stamp, layering it over parts from tonight. This is what he saw when he checked the cameras." Gazzy turned his screen to us. It showed Ari entering the building, doing his rounds. Ari was shown slowly circling the cubicle and answering his phone. Fang was nowhere to be seen, thanks to Gazzy replacing half of the screen with old footage without Fang. Then the elevator _dinged_, Ari looked over, completely skipping over the part where Ari heard Fang by the stairs. The footage continued to Ari taking the elevator down to the garage, and looking around for a while. The rest was live.

I ruffled Gazzy's hair affectionately. "You little genius, you," I said to him. Gazzy was like my little brother. I felt a little bad about tricking my cousin, Ari, but it was hopefully worth it.

**Time Bounce (half an hour)**

"I'm going to bed," Ella decided. After sending everyone else to sleep, Fang and I sat on the couch, sipping hot chocolate Iggy had made earlier. We lay in a comfortable silence, my head on his chest and his arm wrapped around me.

"I was worried about you, ya know," I murmured, watching a marshmallow swirl in my mug. "For just a little bit, I thought Ari would catch you."

"Sh." Fang took my mug and set both of ours on the coffee table next to his outstretched feet. "Max. Look at me." I raised my head and Fang cupped my cheek. Our noses touched, his long black hair falling in front of his eyes in the cutest way. "Nothing will ever keep us apart, I swear it. I _promise._" His dark eyes shone with sincerity and pure, raw emotion. This was the side of Fang he only showed to me, the side I grew to know and fall in love with.

Yes. I, Maximum Ride, am insanely, head-over-heels in love with Fang. The way he smiled, the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was upset, the way he held me to keep me safe from my demons. Every side of him. The silent, sexy boy I'd met that fateful day all those months ago. The bold, unpredictable young man that kissed me without warning. The caring and passionate man that I held close to me now.

His slightly chapped lips touched mine, slow and sweetly, like a first kiss. I kissed back tentatively, my hands unconsciously pulling his head closer to mine. I felt myself turning into a puddle of Max-goo when he slowly slipped his tongue into my mouth. I felt like flying, high into the sky (but not into the clouds, they're cold and wet) on the wings Nudge had made for us in our last shoot.

I'm not sure who ended the kiss, but I did know we were both breathless. My heart thudded double-time in my chest. I grinned at Fang, who smirked back.

"We should get to bed, it's late," I said, noting how late it was. Fang pouted at me adorably.

"Or we cold stay up and kiss some more," he said cheerfully. Which option do you think we ended up going for?

**Time Bound (The next morning)**

**Ella's POV**

"Honestly, you two, stay awake!" I scolded my sister and Fang, who were both yawning. "You'd think you didn't get any sleep last night." I didn't miss the playful smirk that Fang sent to Max, or her faint blush. Rolling my eyes, I carefully laid out the contents of Fang's rucksack onto the coffee table. There were 11 recorders in all.

"Each of us take two, listen to the _whole interview, _even if it's completely unrelated. She may have used then more than once." I handed everyone two recorders. Soon, the scratchy voices of many people filled the room. The only constant was Brigid's rather annoying voice.

I didn't like taking charge, it made me uncomfortable. It was typically Max's job. She was the natural leader, and Maya was the to-be-famous one. I was the younger sister who would probably be a veterinarian, like Mom.

I pressed _Play _on the first recorder. Something about a record-breaker.

**Fang's POV**

My hand was brushing Max's as we listened to Brigid's interviews. I could tell she was blushing slightly from the corner of my eye as I absently wrote what the interview I was listening to was about, most of my focus on Max but still taking detailed notes. Call it a skill of mine I learned in school.

"I found it!" Gazzy said suddenly. We all paused our own recorders and Gazzy restarted his. We found ourselves reliving that day those weeks ago, Brigid's voice whining and trying to sound seductive.

"Let's get started, then, shall we?" Max grinned wolfishly, and I tousled Gazzy's hair. We had a lot of work ahead of us.

**2,568 words. Not my longest, but sure as hockey not my shortest. Yes, I just said hockey instead of H377. Deal with it. Didja enjoy the different POV's? And that bit of faxiness I couldn't resist putting in. Live, love, and draw turtles on your arm! Yes, I did that Thursday, and it's amazing. I had coffeeeeeeee! ~Hellisa**


	17. Lo siento

**I'm sorry. This is going on a hiatus until I actually finish this story, mostly because I hate writing a new chapter every week plus homework and work-work. I am so, so, so sorry! ¡Lo siento! :'( I'm sad, too. I'll try to finish this by the end of the calendar year. I'll be back. I refuse to abandon this story completely.**

**By the way, what do you guys want to happen? This is my universe. Anything could happen. ~Hellisa**


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